Non Timebo Mala
by SupernaturallyConfused
Summary: Sam Winchester has never forgotten that day when his world changed forever. His Mom killed, his elder brother Kidnapped and left his father destroyed. The yakuza really know how to Kill man's soul. He has to get his brother back and for that he needs to enter the Lion's lair. The trouble is that this might be the last job he ever takes. Co-author: Aggiedoll
1. Chapter 1

It was raining heavily, and – boy, was it relief from the cold and frosty weather. Sam looked outside the window, smoking a cigarette, wet from perspiration due to his work out. The drops drew blurred lines on the glass, moving and glistening...strange writings of a culture unknown.

He looked at the city below, people scrambling in every direction to shelter themselves from the rain, dashing through deep puddles of water, cars splashing icy fontaines on everyone not fast enough to jump.

Sam turned his back to the window, looked around in his sparsely furnished room. He went over to the mirror and stared at a man with dark rimmed glasses, long hair combed back at the sides. A tattoo was visible, just above the hem of his trousers ... fonts that read 'non timebo mala'. There was a knock at the door.

He read the note that he had just received. It was from Bobby - he wanted to meet at the Bullhorn, his favorite drinking hole. Bobby was an alcoholic, but then Sam was no one to judge.

He put on his suit, hat, raincoat, strapped on his gun and headed out. He walked through the 14th Street avoiding the scrambling masses. He loved rains, they helped to mask the pain in one's heart, as well as the emptiness inside... The loud noise of the clouds made it easier to cry out in frustration, and rain helped to mask the tears. He got into a cab and headed downtown. They passed the Georgia Memorial Hospital... 5 years ago, he remembered Bobby coming over to tell him that John could not take it anymore - he had slit his throat with a broken window pane. Sam had ran out into the rain, crying, but no one could hear him. He reached the hospital, and before the police could stop him, he barged into his father's room and - there he was, fallen to the ground, in a pool of blood. The wall behind him had a red streak across the wall, bloody writing, fonts screaming at a horrified Sam. It was even worse than ...that other day, so painfully seared into Sam's memory. They gave John a state funeral for all the great work he had done for the city. When they asked him to give the eulogy, Sam just broke down and cried his heart out for the next three days until there were no tears left to shed.

The picture still haunted him in his dreams. Not as often as it used to during the first year after his Dad´s suicide, but still regularly enough. These days he didn't wake up to it covered in cold sweat and crying out his father´s name any more though. Most times, he found his fists and jaw clenched tightly, and his stomach knotted in one burning hot ball of anger.

Anger. It was what filled his veins now, fueling him with the energy he needed. Not for his jobs. They were easy enough to accomplish, once he'd got rid of the annoying feelings of guilt and self loathing. No - his job made him feel - free. It surprised him still occasionally how the fact he'd just cut out the part of him usually referred to as "soul" (others would call it "conscience") filled him with - freedom. Who would've thought how all the humanity crap slowed you down - remorse, and empathy, and pity. Mercy. Sam scoffed, pulling up his shoulders so the heavy raindrops wouldn't crawl down from the soaked collar of his coat.

The anger he reserved for something else. Something far more important than liberating the world from some random thug - be it the cold blooded member of a criminal syndicate or a high-up outstanding citizen accompanying his family to church every freaking Sunday. In his experience, they were equally compromised by greed. He had learned that much during the last years: It was greed that drove humanity. Not love. Not compassion. Greed came in many shades, but in the end, it was always just - greed.

The cab pulled to the curb, and Sam got out, unfolding his lengthy frame. When would they ever build cars fitting his height...The cold downpour had him running towards the pub´s entrance, where friendly warm light poured out on the glistening pavement.

He took a moment to shake the worst damp off his hat and coat, and entered the Bull Horn. The familiar mixture of cheap cigarette smoke, moist clothes and alcohol-laden human breath welcomed him. He scanned the room for his friend-mentor-surrogate dad and found him, as always, sitting at the far end of the bar, right at the corner where the back door offered the possibility to make a fast and unnoticed exit. Just in case...that was what Bobby always said. His paranoia might be ridiculed by others - Sam knew what the man was talking about. In fact, in Sam´s line of work, Bobby´s behavior was normalcy. Life saving normalcy.

He strode over to take the seat at Bobby´s side, nodding at the older man. The years in Korea hadn´t been lenient on him. His face, already creased and scruffy before his enlisting, now looked like a piece of paper crumpled up, opened and scrunched again several times. It had taken Sam years to understand Bobby´s stubborn decision to join the army in this utterly senseless war. If anything, Bobby had been more short-cut, withdrawn and grumpy than before after returning from his "holiday on the McArthur Playgrounds" as he put it. Maybe it was the look in Bobby´s eyes when he was not guarded enough for a moment - and Sam didn't need more than a split second to read people, it came with his job - that made him realize going into war was Bobby´s way of dealing with everything that had happened to his best friend and his family. He had held things together for years, for Sam´s sake; and when Sam was gone, so was his motivation to hold back any more. Just like Sam, he needed something to channel his anger into - and chose a legitimate way.

It hadn't worked out for him, though. The anger was still there; but it was somehow subdued and coated with resignation.

"Bobby", Sam nodded, putting his damp hat on the counter and waving for the bartender.

"Sam", Bobby growled.

"I got your note."

"Well, I'm fine too, boy. Anyways, I think I've got a job for you"

"Bobby, I'm always up for a job. Any job. But when will I ever find Them. I wanna work for Them."

"Well, it's your lucky day then. This one might get you closer to them."

Bobby slipped him the envelope.

Suddenly Bobby touched his ear. Sam knew that gesture. It meant an undercover cop had arrived. Sam finished his drink, took his hat and left the pub. The rain had stopped outside. Sam decided to walk a mile downtown. He came to a bus stop, sat down there and opened his envelope: it read „M. Kobayashi". Along with the note there was boat ticket to Osaka, Japan.

He scanned the few encrypted lines following the name - Bobby was always thorough when it came to security measures. Even without his books, he managed to decipher a few bits. Sam had no clue as to who **M. Kobayashi** was and why he'd earned himself a death mark; honestly, he didn't care. What he DID care about was the fact that the killing was to take place in Tokyo, and the note mentioned an etablissement (AKA whore house) called "Rising Sun". Sam knew the name. He had read and reread it hundreds of times. His father had left a load of material on the case he had been working on for years by the time the Japanese mafia had decided to set an example.

When John had come home on that day, startled by a weird phone call, horror and dread making him run until his lungs ached, his wife had been killed, his older son vanished, and his younger son deeply traumatized by watching the well organized killers/abductors do their work without any remorse or even hesitation.

The Yakuza was thorough and cruel in their methods: kill a man´s family, and he will seek revenge to the end of his days; but kill his wife, and take his son, leaving him in agonizing uncertainty, and mess up his other child for good, and the sheer amount of pain and despair will ruin him. It was, Sam had to admit, the perfect torture - without even coming near the man. And it sent a clear enough message to everyone else who might have the guts to stir up things for the powerful Yakuza family.

Sam pocketed the envelope inside his coat and got up. He´d have to do research, and time was short. This wasn't one of his usual hit and vanish jobs. This was his chance. The chance he´d been waiting for for years. He felt the anger boil up inside his stomach, sending acidic energy through his veins.

Ever since the Kefauver Committee hearings in 1951, it had become a little more difficult to find the information he needed; but Sam had never been one to be slowed down by a bunch of bureaucrats believing in their mission. He got up, rolled his wide shoulders, and strode down the street, ignoring the pools of rain water on the pavement. People hurried to get out of his way. The tall, impressive figure oozed a kind of subdued power and danger no one in his right mind would be dumb enough to mess with. Sam was headed to the one place besides Bobby´s house that had kept him sane (well, a shrink would probably raise protest to that, he smirked). His safe place. And his father´s before.

The storage room was situated just near enough to be reached easily, hidden enough not to be found, and in a common enough place not to raise suspicions. The perfect place for a life´s worth of work. Two lives, to be precise.

Sam went over parts of the material he had already combed uncountable times once again; he had to choose which information to take with him to give it another thorough look while he was shipping to Japan; what could come in handy if he needed a back door at some point (always good to have some leverage); and which documents were to be left with Bobby - just in case...a job like this could easily turn out to be a suicide mission. And Sam had no intention to let go of the sons of bitches who had destroyed his family just because he would eventually be dead.

He had found his Dad´s journal - by chance, wrecking the rickety chest of drawers which had always, as far as Sam could remember, held the huge black telephone, the blue-and white ceramic dish where his parents used to put their keys, and everything from bills to last year´s Christmas cards inside the drawers, in a fit of desperate rage, about two days after the...other day. With Bobby´s help, he had deciphered the hints that finally led them to the storage room.

At first sight, it was - pure chaos. Files, boxes, loose paperwork, photos pinned to the walls seemingly haphazardly; drawers and shelves holding books, old volumes mostly. Bobby was even more stunned than Sam. Nobody, least of all John´s superiors, had had any idea how deep the detective had already worked himself into the bottomless pit that was organized crime.

It was Sam who found out how his father´s system worked. It was not one of the usual ones like alphabetical, or time related; his father had organized the information like a huge onion, or like the annual rings of a tree. Layers upon layers of crime - any kind of it.

Some of the files (which, Sam knew, were obviously here because his father had simply taken them from their legitimate places at the precinct or the new FBI office) were originals. Others were meticulously copied versions the originals of which he couldn't get his hands on.

Sam knew part of the stuff by heart. He had memorized entire passages of records, had stared at grainy photos until his eyes watered. And he had read the crime scene reports. Over and over again. Each time, his anger was newly aroused, and he could go on for a few weeks, sometimes even months, again.

The hours flew by unnoticed while Sam made his decisions, piled up files and books, replaced them, pondered over other files and folders. When he finally had collected everything he considered indispensable, it was already dawning outside, and the air in the room was foggy from all the cigarette smoke.

Sam packed the chosen paperwork and books in the small suitcase he had stored in the room years ago, put a smaller stack of folders into a briefcase, locked the iron door, and left. He had only one or two hours to pack his personal things - not that he'd need much, mostly it would be his weapons and a few more ship would leave this evening, and he had the flight to Los Angeles to catch.


	2. Chapter 2

p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"span lang="DE" style="mso-bidi-font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; color: #262626;"Sam´s long hair flapped in the pretty cold wind, tangling it despite the hair cream he'd applied before leaving his tiny apartment in New York. He was glad to wear glasses. The temperature was unusually fresh, and his eyes watered. He watched as the L.A. Peer shrank and eventually vanished entirely from sight: It felt weird leaving. Sam had never been outside the US before, and seeing the Ferris Wheel disappear on the horizon filled him with an unknown melancholy./span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"span lang="DE" style="mso-bidi-font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; color: #262626;" span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"span lang="DE" style="mso-bidi-font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; color: #262626;"As Sam looked at the first of the many sunsets he would see on this ship's deck he wondered... why March? Why send him on a boat rather than a plane and save money? but when had money ever been a problem for his clients... As he looked around he saw guests and staff in equal amounts. People seemed more relaxed here, dressed rather casually, strolling around, chatting. The florals were everywhere. Then you also had the few foreigners with their strange dressing styles. span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"span lang="DE" style="mso-bidi-font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; color: #262626;"Sam watched two boys playing. One of the boys was teaching the other one how to throw catch. He remembered scenes like that ... following Dean into the park sneakily. Then when his friends showed up, Sam would come out of nowhere wanting to join them. He would make puppy eyes at his big brother and pucker his lips. And sure as Hell, Dean would call him in as well. He would make sure Sam got easier catches, throwing an epic stink eye to whoever threw Sam a hard ball. Dean had been like that. His big brother.span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"span lang="DE" style="mso-bidi-font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; color: #262626;"He turned his face away from the playing boys and looked towards the ocean. It was dark, deep, and frankly looked foreboding. The crowds on the deck were now thinning out. He decided to head back down to continue on his research.span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"span lang="DE" style="mso-bidi-font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; color: #262626;"Sam spent most of his days alone by himself in the reading room of the ship or on the deck trying to join the dots. One day he saw a boy, not more than 10 years of age, with a young sailor. The kid was a handful for the young man. He pushed the sailor into the pool and began to run. The boy came within 10 ft of Sam, when he suddenly started panting heavily.span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"span lang="DE" style="mso-bidi-font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; color: #262626;"Sam realized that the child had difficulty breathing due to the cold air. He went close to the kid and knelt down in front of him. He bent him forward slightly and was stroking his back gently. When the boy was calm enough, Sam tried to see where the sailor was, but there was no one on the deck now. He picked up the child, went to the dining hall and asked for an espresso. He took a teaspoon of the coffee and made the child drink it. span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"span lang="DE" style="mso-bidi-font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; color: #262626;""Devin! There you are.", said a man's voice behind Sam. He turned around to see it was the captain.span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"span lang="DE" style="mso-bidi-font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; color: #262626;""What the hell are you doing with my son!"span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"span lang="DE" style="mso-bidi-font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; color: #262626;" "Dad! The man here saved my life" croaked the boy, trying to smile now. span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"span lang="DE" style="mso-bidi-font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; color: #262626;""That true?" The captain eyed Sam warily. span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"span lang="DE" style="mso-bidi-font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; color: #262626;""He had a fit of asthma", Sam explained. "The cold air, I guess."span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"span lang="DE" style="mso-bidi-font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; color: #262626;"Sam saw the suspicion leave the other man´s face.span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"span lang="DE" style="mso-bidi-font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; color: #262626;""Jesus - well thank you very much, Sir. Devin shouldn't even be out at night with the temperatures that low ... I'm very much obliged, Mr..."span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"span lang="DE" style="mso-bidi-font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; color: #262626;""Smith. Vincent Smith. You should hire more careful people to look after your son", Sam said. The captain frowned, and nodded.span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"span lang="DE" style="mso-bidi-font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; color: #262626;""Mr Smith - join me tonight for dinner!"span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"span lang="DE" style="mso-bidi-font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; color: #262626;""Of course!" Sam touched his hat, smiled at the boy, and left.span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"span lang="DE" style="mso-bidi-font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; color: #262626;" span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"span lang="DE" style="mso-bidi-font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; color: #262626;"Sam was dressed in his finest tuxedo. He had to look as if he belonged here on this ship. Taking a look around the dining room, he was greeted with many admiring glances and jealous glares. Seeing the captain waving at him, he joined the table where the captain and his rather young wife were dining along with Mr Mrs Wessex, a rich couple from Philadelphia. Sam seated himself right next to the captain. He realized Mr Wessex wasn't happy having Sam with them, while both Mrs Wessex and Gloria (the captain's wife) seemed very glad he had joined their table. Sam smiled slyly when he felt two feet going up his pants. From their conversation Sam learned that Wessex was a banker,span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"span lang="DE" style="mso-bidi-font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; color: #262626;"headed to Tokyo on business. Sam wasn't exactly the talking type - he always listened and encouraged people to talk.span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"span lang="DE" style="mso-bidi-font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; color: #262626;" "I've heard it´s going to be lovely there right now" remarked Mrs Wessex.span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"span lang="DE" style="mso-bidi-font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; color: #262626;""Of course! Mr Smith, you must go to the gardens for the festival of Sakura", remarked Gloria. "The cherry blossoms are amazing!"span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"span lang="DE" style="mso-bidi-font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; color: #262626;" "I will."span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"span lang="DE" style="mso-bidi-font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; color: #262626;"Oh - so maybe that was the reason why his client wanted the hit then... well, he´d soon know.span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"span lang="DE" style="mso-bidi-font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; color: #262626;"Their conversation was suddenly stopped when the lights were dimmed, and finally went out. The room went silent, anticipation filling the air. Then a single spotlight revealed a figure cooped up on the stage. She slowly raised herself as though a butterfly opens up with her long red and gold sleeves that seemed like wings on fire.span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"span lang="DE" style="mso-bidi-font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; color: #262626;""She's performing the call of spring. Her name is Muraki", the captain quietly informed Sam. It was a slow, but the most riveting performance Sam had ever witnessed. The graceful movements of her hands depicting the winds, and the way her body moved felt like she did not belong in this world. She seemed to be part of a more ethereal universe. When the performance ended, everyone stood up and applauded. Sam wanted her, he wanted her to remove those trinkets from her hair and let them loose, imagined her coming undone... He just stood there and watched her as she exited the stage - and threw a black satin sash in Sam's direction. span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"span lang="DE" style="mso-bidi-font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; color: #262626;"After dinner, Sam was walking back to his room, when someone pulled him inside one of the cabins. Sam slammed the owner of the hand against the closed door.span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"span lang="DE" style="mso-bidi-font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; color: #262626;""Ah... Mr Smith, you're even stronger than I imagined."span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"span lang="DE" style="mso-bidi-font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; color: #262626;"It was Mrs Wessex. Sam gave her a sly smile and crashed their lips together.span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: -0.5in; text-align: left;"span lang="DE" style="mso-bidi-font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; color: #262626;""mmm, I'm glad we are on the same page", purred Mrs Wessex in her spanvelvety, throaty voice./p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: -0.5in; text-align: left;"span lang="DE" style="mso-fareast-font-family: Cambria; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Cambria; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; color: #262626;"span style="font-stretch: normal; font-size: 7pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman';" span/spanspan lang="DE" style="mso-bidi-font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; color: #262626;""I hope you won't mind company" said a petite voice behind them – it /spanwas Gloria. A blonde and a brunette? Well - this wasn't Sam´s first or last threesome./p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"span lang="DE" style="mso-bidi-font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; color: #262626;" "Of course not", he said. span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"span lang="DE" style="mso-bidi-font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; color: #262626;""But you'll have to make it worth my while, ladies..."span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"span lang="DE" style="mso-bidi-font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; color: #262626;"Sam felt Gloria´s hands crawl under his tuxedo jacket. She tugged out his shirt, impatiently so. span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"span lang="DE" style="mso-bidi-font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; color: #262626;""Don´t worry about that", she purred, pressing herself against his broad back. Mrs. Wessex began to open the buttons of his shirt one by one. When the last one finally was undone, she pulled the tuxedo´s jacket off Sam´s impressive shoulders, assisted by Gloria, who unceremoniously threw the fine piece to the side. Sam pressed his groin against Mrs. Wessex hips, making her moan with pleasure while the women wrestled him out of the stark white shirt; it went the jacket´s way and landed somewhere on the floor. span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"span lang="DE" style="mso-bidi-font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; color: #262626;"Sam felt Gloria´s hands again – only deeper down this time, sliding under his waistband, gently pulling out the white t-shirt. The shirt was hastily wrestled over his head, and both women gasped at the sight of Sam´s gorgeous torso: muscles so firm they seemed sculptured out of marble; and then there were the tattoos, of course. Mrs. Wessex let her hands glide up Sam´s arms, tracing the beautifully colored tattoo of a peacock´s feather on the way; Gloria´s hands were on his hips, finding their way to his belt buckle though; having it opened, her skilled fingers gently caressed the hard ripple of his abs, going up to the impressive chest, only ghosting his nipples; that was where the ladie´s hands met, starting a seductive dance on Sam´s skin, stroking, gliding, teasing; Sam began to really enjoy this. Those two respectable wives...they sure as hell were no amateurs...he smiled slyly. Mrs. Wessex still had her fingers read the signs on his skin, fingernails tracing the black symbol on the left side of his chest, face curious.span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"span lang="DE" style="mso-bidi-font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; color: #262626;""It´s a symbol fighting off demonic possession", Sam murmured into her ear, voice a barely audible growl. He felt her shiver and pressed his groin against her once more, harder this time, enjoying the gasp and subdued moan it provoked; the next moment, he himself sucked in the air sharply, when two skilled hands found their way inside his trousers, and came to lie on his half-hardened cock. He heard the soft chuckle in his back, and the strangely childlike voice murmuring, span"...not very effective, your symbol, though... ´Cause I see a demon right in front of me...and I wouldn't have him leave..."/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"span lang="DE" style="mso-bidi-font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; color: #262626;"Soft lips began ghosting his back, leaving a wet trace that made Sam shiver. He moaned deeply when Gloria´s fingers danced up and down his cock, with his pants still preventing them from touching his skin. Mrs. Wessex had pulled his head down, hands grabbing his long hair; she kissed him, ferociously, and then her tongue plunged into his mouth, claiming him, twirling with his own in a fierce choreography. Gloria had reached his waist with her lips; she glided down on her knees behind him, and with one swift move pulled down his pants and underpants. When her hands touched the delicate skin of his cock, Sam moaned deeply; it was so much more pleasurable without the barrier of the cloth between them. span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"span lang="DE" style="mso-bidi-font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; color: #262626;""Ladies...time to get rid of those pretty dresses of yours´..." he murmured, voice deep and throaty, full of lust. Mrs. Wessex let out a husky laugh, her eyes wandering down to Sam´s impressive cock, now getting hard under Gloria´s skillful strokes.span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"span lang="DE" style="mso-bidi-font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; color: #262626;""Fair enough...", she purred. "We wouldn't want to leave this price fighter alone with all the fun, wouldn't we? Would you mind to be of service, Mr. Smith?"span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"span lang="DE" style="mso-bidi-font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; color: #262626;"She pushed Sam back a little, turned around, and Sam nestled open the tiny buttons on her silk dress. With a rustling noise, it fell to the floor, revealing the delicate lace of her underwear on her voluptuous body; it took Sam only a moment to get rid of the bra and freeing her full yet firm breasts from their cage. He cupped them with his huge hands, squeezing them gently, and making her moan with pleasure again; he was barely aware of a movement behind him, where Gloria got to her feet again, and slipped out of her dark red dress, and underwear; he was kissing the pale neck in front of him, when suddenly something was slung around his neck, and Gloria pulled his head back. She was on her toes, hand finding his member again, gripping it hard this time; she twisted the silk stocking she had used to capture him tighter, making him bend his head way back.span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"span lang="DE" style="mso-bidi-font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; color: #262626;""Time to go to bed, naughty boy", she purred, voice rough with lust and need. "It´s time for your Lullaby..."span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"span lang="DE" style="mso-bidi-font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; color: #262626;" span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"span lang="DE" style="mso-bidi-font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; color: #262626;"To bed they went. But sleep was not what they sought...not for the next hours to come. And the Lullaby sure would have made any other passenger on the ship blush...or join them.span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"span lang="DE" style="mso-bidi-font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; color: #262626;" span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"span lang="DE" style="mso-bidi-font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; color: #262626;"After three well spent hours Sam tucked in both the ladies. Sam always knew never to overstay his welcome. He felt for something in his pocket, and pulled out the black sash, moving it between his fingers. span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"span lang="DE" style="mso-bidi-font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; color: #262626;"Over the next few days, Sam spent a lot of time with the captain, enjoying dinners and long cigar room chats. He liked the captain for the fact that he knew practically everyone on the ship, and that he loved to talk. Considering the fact that Sam didn't talk much himself, in fact it was a relief since the captain would embark on a monologue anytime and Sam would just have to nod. He even took part in the betting pool where compulsive gamblers and other respected members of the gentry took part in guessing when the ship would reach Osaka. span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"span lang="DE" style="mso-bidi-font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; color: #262626;"One such cigar room afternoon the captain said, "So... Vincent - is there a Mrs Smith?"span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"span lang="DE" style="mso-bidi-font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; color: #262626;""Oh no sir, I've steered clear of that iceberg". They both laughed at this. At this point Sam caught the glimpse of the Japanese enchantment, Muraki. She was wearing a white silk kimono with a red sash in the middle, holding a white umbrella made from bamboo, with her hair tied with some flowers. He noticed that she kept looking down, and then all of a sudden she looked at Sam, lowering her eyes again immediately.span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"span lang="DE" style="mso-bidi-font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; color: #262626;" "Oh - so you prefer exotic fruits".span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"span lang="DE" style="mso-bidi-font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; color: #262626;" Sam had completely forgotten that the captain was there. "Oh..."span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"span lang="DE" style="mso-bidi-font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; color: #262626;""That's okay, my boy. We all crave for her attention - but it seems you have caught her interest as well"span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"span lang="DE" style="mso-bidi-font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; color: #262626;""Really", Sam asked nervously.span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"span lang="DE" style="mso-bidi-font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; color: #262626;""Oh, come on now, she did look at you. How about I invite her for dinner? She's a personal friend of mine. That performance you saw was just done as a favor."span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"span lang="DE" style="mso-bidi-font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; color: #262626;""You must be a very good friend of hers then."span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in; text-align: left;"!- [if !supportLists]-span lang="DE" style="mso-fareast-font-family: Cambria; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Cambria; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; color: #262626;"span style="font-stretch: normal; font-size: 7pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman';" span/span!-[endif]-span lang="DE" style="mso-bidi-font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; color: #262626;""Oh my dear boy, I saved her life as a child during the great war". Sam really liked the captain now. Finally he would get to meet this enchantress. /span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in; text-align: left;"!- [if !supportLists]-span lang="DE" style="mso-fareast-font-family: Cambria; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Cambria; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; color: #262626;"span style="font-stretch: normal; font-size: 7pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman';" span/span!-[endif]-span lang="DE" style="mso-bidi-font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; color: #262626;"The dinner took place in the main hall, unlike in the captain's cabin like before on occasion. They had the best seat in the hall, not too close and not to far from the stage. The party consisted of the captain, his wife Gloria, their son Devin, Mr Mrs Wessex and Sam. They were waiting for her. Finally they saw her coming upstairs, wearing a black kimono with a red and white sash. Her hair was tied into the most intricate design, complete with two red sticks holding the hairdo, and white flowers. She took small steps, came close and bowed gracefully at everyone, finally taking her seat next to Sam. "I'm so sorry for being late" she said looking around the table in her soft yet silky voice. "Oh please dear, that's alright" said the captain. "It's time well spent" Mr Wessex remarked raising his glass. /span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: -0.5in; text-align: left;"!- [if !supportLists]-span lang="DE" style="mso-fareast-font-family: Cambria; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Cambria; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; color: #262626;"span style="font-stretch: normal; font-size: 7pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman';" span/span!-[endif]-span lang="DE" style="mso-bidi-font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; color: #262626;" It turned out that Murakami was an excellent conversationalist as was the requisite of her job. She managed to have a conversation with everyone on that table, contributing to topics ranging from the great war and politics with the captain to banking and Japanese economy with Mr Wessex, at the same time brilliantly handling the two ladies by making them feel included with topics of latest fashion in Paris. /span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in; text-align: left;"!- [if !supportLists]-span lang="DE" style="mso-fareast-font-family: Cambria; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Cambria; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; color: #262626;"span style="font-stretch: normal; font-size: 7pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman';" span/span!-[endif]-span lang="DE" style="mso-bidi-font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; color: #262626;"She had figured everyone at the table except the tallest and rather handsome gentleman. He preferred to get lost in the clamor of other people. He reminded her of the ocean, deep, calm and lethal. He also reminded her of Shinichi, her lover... He was the reason she'd found herself in the eye of the storm. Her okasan had warned her about Shinichi, but she could not resist his charms. One of the reasons she liked Shinichi - and now Mr Smith - was the fact that she could not figure them out. The fact that her charms did not seduce them made her think they could see who she really was. She wasn't perfect as her patrons would want to believe./span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in; text-align: left;"!- [if !supportLists]-span lang="DE" style="mso-fareast-font-family: Cambria; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Cambria; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; color: #262626;"span style="font-stretch: normal; font-size: 7pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman';" span/span!-[endif]-span lang="DE" style="mso-bidi-font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; color: #262626;" Sam looked at her, and that feeling took over again. He knew there was more to her than excellent conversation, graceful etiquette and a beautiful face. Right - she looked like a doll to him, sitting there perfectly and being animated. She looked at him and their eyes met. In that instant, Sam saw the glimpse of the real woman behind the mask. He wanted her now, he wanted to take her into his arms and ravage her, smear the mascara and wipe her lipstick off. He wanted to break her out of the constriction of her kimono. Sam got up to leave "I've to make an urgent telegram to my contact in Osaka, before I forget. I shall join you soon". With this Sam left the jolly company and went towards the deck. It was nice and quiet on the front deck. There was a cool breeze flowing, it seemed to be the exact opposite of how he felt inside./span/p  
>p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: -0.25in; text-align: left;"!- [if !supportLists]-span lang="DE" style="mso-fareast-font-family: Cambria; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Cambria; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; color: #262626;"span style="font-stretch: normal; font-size: 7pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman';" span/span!-[endif]-span lang="DE" style="mso-bidi-font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; color: #262626;" There was a storm surging inside of him, so many mixed feelings rising up. He looked out - there was nothing but dark blue foreboding water and the brightly lit sky with thousands of stars. The ocean and sky made him feel so small. The sky above him and the sea below seemed to have no end in sight. He looked up to the sky and deeply breathed in the fresh sea air./span/p  
>p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: -0.25in;"!- [if !supportLists]-span lang="DE" style="mso-fareast-font-family: Cambria; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Cambria; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; color: #262626;"span style="font-stretch: normal; font-size: 7pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman';" span/span!-[endif]-span lang="DE" style="mso-bidi-font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; color: #262626;" "It makes you feel so small. All our problems seem petite in front of all this." /span/p  
>p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: -0.25in;"!- [if !supportLists]-span lang="DE" style="mso-fareast-font-family: Cambria; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Cambria; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; color: #262626;"span style="font-stretch: normal; font-size: 7pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman';" span/span!-[endif]-span lang="DE" style="mso-bidi-font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; color: #262626;" Sam turned to see that it was Murakami. "I didn't hear you come"/span/p  
>p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in;"!- [if !supportLists]-span lang="DE" style="mso-fareast-font-family: Cambria; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Cambria; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; color: #262626;"span style="font-stretch: normal; font-size: 7pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman';" span/span!-[endif]-span lang="DE" style="mso-bidi-font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; color: #262626;""I tread a little softly when I sneak up on someone"/span/p  
>p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in;"!- [if !supportLists]-span lang="DE" style="mso-fareast-font-family: Cambria; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Cambria; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; color: #262626;"span style="font-stretch: normal; font-size: 7pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman';" span/span!-[endif]-span lang="DE" style="mso-bidi-font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; color: #262626;""So you did intend to sneak up on me?"/span/p  
>p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in;"!- [if !supportLists]-span lang="DE" style="mso-fareast-font-family: Cambria; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Cambria; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; color: #262626;"span style="font-stretch: normal; font-size: 7pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman';" span/span!-[endif]-span lang="DE" style="mso-bidi-font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; color: #262626;""Well I must confess that you intrigue me, Mr. Smith."/span/p  
>p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in;"!- [if !supportLists]-span lang="DE" style="mso-fareast-font-family: Cambria; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Cambria; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; color: #262626;"span style="font-stretch: normal; font-size: 7pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman';" span/span!-[endif]-span lang="DE" style="mso-bidi-font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; color: #262626;""I'm glad that at least I incite some feeling in you."/span/p  
>p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in;"!- [if !supportLists]-span lang="DE" style="mso-fareast-font-family: Cambria; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Cambria; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; color: #262626;"span style="font-stretch: normal; font-size: 7pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman';" span/span!-[endif]-span lang="DE" style="mso-bidi-font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; color: #262626;""What do you mean by that?"/span/p  
>p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in;"!- [if !supportLists]-span lang="DE" style="mso-fareast-font-family: Cambria; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Cambria; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; color: #262626;"span style="font-stretch: normal; font-size: 7pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman';" span/span!-[endif]-span lang="DE" style="mso-bidi-font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; color: #262626;""Well, I saw that although you soon became the heart of the party by being a perfect hostess, your heart was somewhere else"/span/p  
>p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in;"!- [if !supportLists]-span lang="DE" style="mso-fareast-font-family: Cambria; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Cambria; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; color: #262626;"span style="font-stretch: normal; font-size: 7pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman';" span/span!-[endif]-span lang="DE" style="mso-bidi-font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; color: #262626;""Excuse me! "/span/p  
>p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in;"!- [if !supportLists]-span lang="DE" style="mso-fareast-font-family: Cambria; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Cambria; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; color: #959595;"span style="font-stretch: normal; font-size: 7pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman';" span/span!-[endif]-span lang="DE" style="mso-bidi-font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; color: #262626;""You seemed to be doing your job there, which you've been trained to do. Hoping that someone would understand the words that you weren't saying." /span/p  
>p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in; text-align: left;"!- [if !supportLists]-span lang="DE" style="mso-fareast-font-family: Cambria; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Cambria; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; color: #959595;"span style="font-stretch: normal; font-size: 7pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman';" span/span!-[endif]-span lang="DE" style="mso-bidi-font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; color: #262626;"Sam was close to her now, looking down into her black eyes. She immediately lowered them. Sam extended his hand towards her face. All of sudden she opened her white and red fan. "A geisha cannot afford this luxury, Mr. Smith. She's the model of perfection that every man dreams of. I can be whatever you want me to be." She came close to him, raised her eyes to meet his eyes and turned to go./span/p  
>p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in; text-align: left;"!- [if !supportLists]-span lang="DE" style="mso-fareast-font-family: Cambria; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Cambria; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; color: #959595;"span style="font-stretch: normal; font-size: 7pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman';" span/span!-[endif]-span lang="DE" style="mso-bidi-font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; color: #262626;""I don't want you to be anyone for me. I don't want you to be perfect."/span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"span lang="DE" style="mso-bidi-font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; color: #262626;"She turned around and gave him one long stare.span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"span lang="DE" style="mso-bidi-font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; color: #262626;""Good Night, Mr. Smith" - and she went inside. Sam couldn't believe that he had said all that to her. Why did he do that? He wasn't one of those people who said things out aloud like that. It was her, she made him feel things that he had never felt before or feelings he had chosen to ignore. He had always acted on such feelings. He remembered Agnes, his first girl. He was 18 then, and worked at the bar where he would go with Bobby. He watched her across the counter, smiling at him. She was a teacher all prim and proper, waiting for her date to come back from the mens´ room. He smiled back, and a few minutes later they were clawing at each other in the back of Bobby's truck. That was the first time he realized that he loved to watch women coming undone in front of him. She was wearing a tight skirt and a shirt. After Sam was done with her, the skirt was torn and there were no buttons on the shirt. She had a little scar on her now pink lips. What worried Sam was the fact that while being with such women he felt too vulnerable and exposed. He was letting the passionate Sam take over. He knew that if he kept bringing that Sam out, he would never see the next day and he feared that Sam would open the floodgates which he had locked shut with John's death. Hence he had buried that part of his self under piles of anger and focused his energies on finding Yakuza. The entry of Murakami had threatened to bring that part out again.span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"span lang="DE" style="mso-bidi-font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; color: #262626;" span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"span lang="DE" style="mso-bidi-font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; color: #262626;"Sam was punching hard, trying to get the thoughts of Murakami out of his head. He was sweating profusely and finally stopped for catching a breath, and held the sandbag as well from swinging violently. He entered his cabin and went for a bath. The water from the shower hit his sweaty body. As he closed his eyes, he saw Murakami's face, those beautiful slanting eyes, her lovely cheekbones and then her inviting, pink lips. span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"span lang="DE" style="mso-bidi-font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; color: #262626;"He opened his eyes, got out of the shower. He knew he needed a distraction. He went to see the captain, instead he found Gloria. "Mr. Smith, good morning. Well, it's definitely a pleasant surprise to see you. You must join me for breakfast."span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"span lang="DE" style="mso-bidi-font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; color: #262626;""Well, I cannot say no to that, can I" Sam said taking a seat at the lovely sea facing table in the captain's cabin, as the couple of maids scuttled away placing the breakfast and tea. As soon as they were out of the door, Gloria got up and sat on Sam's lap. She kissed him hard and Sam was more than happy to oblige. This was exactly the distraction Sam needed. Another woman, a sexual encounter he knew that meant nothing at all. The kind he was most comfortable with. This was where he could enjoy himself, staying behind his well built wall, controlling and never letting go.span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"span lang="DE" style="mso-bidi-font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; color: #262626;"Sam left the captain's cabin feeling satisfied with himself that he had banished any thought of her. He went to the ship's library and checked out a few maps of Japan. By the time he left, it was almost dinner time.span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"span lang="DE" style="mso-bidi-font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; color: #262626;"He finished his dinner with the captain where he was informed that they would be reaching the Osaka haven very soon. Then he walked back to his cabin watching the starlit sky. He was going to miss this. He came inside his cabin, did not put on the lights as there was the moonlight shining through his cabin window. Just when he saw rain clouds gathering by, he remembered that the captain had mentioned they might see some rain.span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"span lang="DE" style="mso-bidi-font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; color: #262626;"Then all of sudden he heard some rustling and he turned around to check if someone was standing outside his cabin. Just then he saw that person was trying to get in. Sam went closer to the door and then held the knob highland, opening the door with full force. With that, Murakami was thrown inside his cabin on his bed.span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"span lang="DE" style="mso-bidi-font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; color: #262626;" "You!What are you doing here?"span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"span lang="DE" style="mso-bidi-font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; color: #262626;"She got up and looked at him."I was here to say goodbye to you and give you this letter"span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"span lang="DE" style="mso-bidi-font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; color: #262626;""What letter is that? ", Sam said reaching for it. Suddenly Murakami withdrew her hand and hid the letter behind her back. "It doesn't matter. It's stupid anyways" she said, moving towards the door. At that moment Sam lunged forward and closed the door.span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"span lang="DE" style="mso-bidi-font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; color: #262626;""Excuse me, Mr. Smith, but I need to go back to my room" she said frowning. Sam moved closer to her.span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"span lang="DE" style="mso-bidi-font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; color: #262626;""What's in that letter?"span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"span lang="DE" style="mso-bidi-font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; color: #262626;""Nothing, it's stupid, I told you" she said, not meeting his eyes. Sam put his hand under her chin and raised her face so that their eyes could meet. "Please Murakami, I need to know", Sam said softly. Her lips quivered at this and she closed her eyes and said,span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"span lang="DE" style="mso-bidi-font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; color: #262626;""It's about me. You said last night that you did not want me to be perfect but just be myself. This is me ", she said. Sam clenched his jaw and held her frail form in his strong arms.span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"span lang="DE" style="mso-bidi-font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; color: #262626;""Thank you" Sam said, hating himself. She looked up at him. God, he had never seen anyone so beautiful. She inched forward and Sam closed the gap. It was an innocent kiss, with both of them only touching each other´s lips.span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"span lang="DE" style="mso-bidi-font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; color: #262626;"Murakami pushed Sam away.span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"span lang="DE" style="mso-bidi-font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; color: #262626;""No, I'm a geisha. I'm not allowed this." As she was moving away from him, Sam pulled her close in one swift jerk. This time, there was nothing chast about the kiss. Sam's tongue invaded her mouth and she moaned. Her lips were warm. Sam had no control over himself now. He moved his hands towards her well tied hair. As he touched it, she pulled away.span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"span lang="DE" style="mso-bidi-font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; color: #262626;""Vincent, no, please", but Sam had no such intentions. He pulled away one of the sticks in her hair and waves of them were let loose. They were long and dark, silky. Sam looked at her face, held it in his hands and kissed her again. She moaned even louder now. Sam wasn't done yet, his hands ran down towards her waist and she winced in his arms.span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"span lang="DE" style="mso-bidi-font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; color: #262626;""Oh Vincent..."span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"span lang="DE" style="mso-bidi-font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; color: #262626;"Sam found the knot of the sash of her kimono. He gave it one pull and the sash was undone. She rigged her nails into his shoulders. Sam pulled the sash away. His dream was coming true... She was coming undone. She pushed Sam on the bed and sat right on top of him. She was now opening his shirt and all Sam wanted to do was to touch the exposed part of her torso and pull away the rest of her kimono.span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"span lang="DE" style="mso-bidi-font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; color: #262626;"She pulled down his pants. They were practically sitting in each other's lap. Now she had completely come undone to him. Both looked at each other with an insatiable hunger in their eyes, as if both knew that the other person held the missing part of their soul. They touched each other and revelled in each others´ nakedness. Sam had scratches on both his arms and she had a bruise on her lip, and one of the red ribbons was still loose in her hair. This time when they kissed, it was nice and long. There was no hurry, in fact, both were exploring each other's body with their tongues. Finally Sam put her on the bed and kissed her while she wrapped her legs around him. Murakami then embraced Sam with her hands that were tied with the same sash that she threw to him when they first met. Sam licked her and all she managed to say was "aaaahhhh..."span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"span lang="DE" style="mso-bidi-font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; color: #262626;"Sam woke up when the sunlight filtering through his window fell on his face. Murakami was sitting on the bed, her back to him.span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"span lang="DE" style="mso-bidi-font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; color: #262626;""I'm not good for you. I'll bring misfortune on you. But then you already knew that, isn't it?"span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"span lang="DE" style="mso-bidi-font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; color: #262626;"At this Sam woke up from his lazy post coital stupor.span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"span lang="DE" style="mso-bidi-font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; color: #262626;""Excuse me?"span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"span lang="DE" style="mso-bidi-font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; color: #262626;""You're here to kill me, isn't it?"span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"span lang="DE" style="mso-bidi-font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; color: #262626;"Sam was trying to search for his knife that he kept under his pillow. "That's good. I won't stop you...Sam. But you lied to me. I'm not judging you. I'm sure you jaded your reasons. I want to help you with your brother", she said walking towards the table near the window. Sam crossed that distance with one stride and turned her around, putting the knife to her throat.span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"span lang="DE" style="mso-bidi-font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; color: #262626;""Who are you?span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"span lang="DE" style="mso-bidi-font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; color: #262626;""You're hurting me."span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"span lang="DE" style="mso-bidi-font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; color: #262626;"Murakami was held up against the wall by Sam, the knife still pressed to her pretty frail neck.span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"span lang="DE" style="mso-bidi-font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; color: #262626;""How do you know about my brother? How do you know who I am?", Sam said clenching his jaw.span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"span lang="DE" style="mso-bidi-font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; color: #262626;""I'm your target...M. Kobayashi."span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"span lang="DE" style="mso-bidi-font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; color: #262626;"Sam´s eyes widened.span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"span lang="DE" style="mso-bidi-font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; color: #262626;"„What?"span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"span lang="DE" style="mso-bidi-font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; color: #262626;"„It's the Yakuza. They want me dead. I know you're searching for them. I read your log. Please, trust me" span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"span lang="DE" style="mso-bidi-font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; color: #262626;"Sam couldn't believe what he had just heard. He loosened his grip on her, but kept the dagger in place. He wasn't sure how to react to this information.span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"span lang="DE" style="mso-bidi-font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; color: #262626;""They killed my Shinichi in San Francisco. He helped me escape from there, but it's too late I guess." Sam brought down the dagger.span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"span lang="DE" style="mso-bidi-font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; color: #262626;""Shinichi was my danna, my lover. I met him in Tokyo. At that time, I just knew him as a businessman. He came over regularly. We fell for each other. He was just like you... quiet, deep and dangerous. He became my danna and flew me to America with him. That night his secret identity was revealed to me. He worked for Yakuza. He took me to America with him and I thought we had left his old life back home. But Yakuza already has long tentacles. They found us there. Shinichi asked for help, made sure I could leave the country safely."span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"span lang="DE" style="mso-bidi-font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; color: #262626;"She searched Sam´s eyes, looking for a sign of his understanding.span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"span lang="DE" style="mso-bidi-font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; color: #262626;"„I have something that will help you gain entry into the world of Yakuza. It's Shinichi's diary... it has all the relevant names of Yakuza and their many businesses. Come with me now."span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"span lang="DE" style="mso-bidi-font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; color: #262626;"As she got up to leave from Sam's bed, he pulled her close and kissed her. She smiled at him. In that tender moment Sam decided that he wasn't going to go through with this job. He would protect her.span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"span lang="DE" style="mso-bidi-font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; color: #262626;"She gave him the diary.span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"span lang="DE" style="mso-bidi-font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; color: #262626;""I hope this helps you. Now I have a favor to ask of you."span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"span lang="DE" style="mso-bidi-font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; color: #262626;""Anything", Sam said holding her close.span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"span lang="DE" style="mso-bidi-font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; color: #262626;""Please go ahead with your plan to kill me." span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"span lang="DE" style="mso-bidi-font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; color: #262626;""No! Never!"span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"span lang="DE" style="mso-bidi-font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; color: #262626;""You don't understand, Sam. They need to make an example out of us and they won't stop . There's never an easy way to leave Yakuza. They will find me, no matter where I go."span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"span lang="DE" style="mso-bidi-font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; color: #262626;""I'll protect you. Trust me!"span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"span lang="DE" style="mso-bidi-font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; color: #262626;""You don't understand. This will help you too, Sam... I'm tired of running from them. You at least need to help me find peace. I'm begging you." span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"span lang="DE" style="mso-bidi-font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; color: #262626;""How can you ask me to do this?"span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"span lang="DE" style="mso-bidi-font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; color: #262626;"Sam felt helpless. She was right - with her dead, the Yakuza would think that the chapter would be closed. He was so close to finding the Yakuza, a mission that had haunted his whole existence since they killed his mother and took his elder brother.span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"span lang="DE" style="mso-bidi-font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; color: #262626;"He had to make a choice. Who would he choose - the woman he loved or his family?span/p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"span lang="DE" style="mso-bidi-font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; color: #262626;"There was no question of choice here.span/p  
>p style="text-align: left;" p  
>p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"span lang="DE" style="mso-bidi-font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; color: #262626;"He already knew what – who - he would choose.span/p 


	3. Chapter 3

After the long weeks on the open sea, it was weird feeling solid ground under his feet again. Sam, who hadn´t been nauseous once on the boat, experienced an unpleasant queasyness in his stomach when he walked down one of Osaka´s main streets. He was surprised to find a city of low buildings – two storeys top, nothing like Manhattan. It looked rather like any small American Midwest town, only spread much wider, and showing a very different architectural style.

Sam frowned at the signs. Japanese, of course. No way he'd have found the tea house he was looking for hadn´t the captain drawn a sketch for him on their last evening on board. Their farewell dinner had been overcast by a slightly subdued mood, in spite of the champagne the captain was offering in generous amounts. The ladies did their best to get a last bit of Sam´s special hotness, letting their feet run wild under the table; the captain talked a little less than usual, mentioning several times he would miss their company (he had admitted to Sam one evening, the thought of spending more than two weeks on solid ground with his wife and son made him nervous. "Fish out of the water", was how he had put it. "I truly can´t breathe when I'moff my boat. Call it professional side effects...").

Third street to the right, walk down for about 300m. Turn left, second building. Sam looked at the sketch, then at the unspectacular building in front of him. No sign at all, not even in Japanese. People seemed to keep their businesses a secret here.

The locations were probably passed on person to person.

His last night with Murakami...Sam kicked at a stone in frustration. She had been adamant about the plan they had, on her insisting, concocted together. Sam had tried everything to find a way to pull the whole operation without having to kill Murakami...but he came up with nothing. Nothing that would be as effective, that is. It annoyed Sam beyond any measure – he wasn't used to feeling helpless. Not any more: he had worked hard to avoid exactly that kind of situation. Truth is, `annoyed´ didn´t really cut it. Sam was ...hurting. Looking into Murakami´s determined face, reading the deep sadness in her dark eyes...it brought back everything he'd been so keen on burying as deep inside himself as he could.

"You can do this, Sam Winchester", she had said, cupping his cheek with her tiny hand. "For me. For Shinichi. And for your brother." He had taken her face in his own hands, so large and clumsy against her fragile features. Tears had welled in her eyes, and he had gently wiped them away with his thumbs, caressing her cheekbones.

"Save your brother", she had whispered. "Promise me you'll survive and find him. Be a family again."

Then her voice had changed, her whole body had seemed to strengthen up, filled with fierce energy.

"And bring them down. Every single one of them. Let them bleed, Sam. Spill their blood...for me. For your mother...your family. For my danna. For all the other innocent people they slaughtered. Do it! And don't show mercy. None of them deserves it."

'_Mr. Thomas Simmons, business consultant. US-Japanese commercial relations committee'. _The card he had got together with his job information was expensive-looking, gold fonts on heavy paper. Mr. Simmons seemed to do quite well in his `business´.

No surprise there, Sam thought. The bastard was on Yakuza´s pay list. One more tiny wheel greasing the gigantic machine that was organized crime.

He went up the wooden stairs and was immediately welcomed by a tiny woman in Kimono who bowed – God, she hardly reached his chest when she straightened up again – and gestured to his feet. Ah, the shoes. The Captain had warned him to take `the shoe thing´ seriously. "They´re particular that way", he had put it. "Huge lack of courtesy not to take them off."

Sam slipped out of his boots. He had read about customs like this one in advance of course, and decided to bring non-tie shoes only – he didn´t want to find himself kneeling on the floor tying his shoelaces while one of the world´s most dangerous mafia organisations was on his heels. Doing his job in socks wasn't an alternative either.

The woman nodded, opened the sliding door, and waved Sam in. He followed her, feeling strangely naked without his boots. The woman seemed to know about his meeting – not that it was hard to guess, Sam thought, given the scarce number of Americans residing in Osaka. She led him to a separate room, opened another sliding door – it was, he noticed, not one of the bamboo and paper walls, but solid wood - , and bowed again. Sam nodded his thanks, and entered. Well, even Japanese Tea Houses needed their protected back rooms for the shadier kind of clientele, he mused.

A man rose from the floor, a little clumsily so. Sam took in his appearance with one swift glance. If he had had to describe the man with one single word, it would probably have been: homely. Or harmless.

Gold rimmed glasses, rather thick ones; a grey flannel suit, best quality and tailoring, but in an unobtrusive style; neatly combed mouse colored hair, already thinning at the temples. A face so common no one would remember it. Middle aged. Medium height, medium weight. He was the personification of mediocrity.

He´s the perfect man for his job – his jobs, Sam thought, keeping his face blank.

"Mr. Simmons", he said, ignoring the outstretched hand in front of him.

Simmons seemed uncomfortable, a little intimidated by Sam´s height maybe, as he was several inches smaller. Or, Sam thought with grim pleasure, it was the fact Simmons knew what Sam was doing for a living. Simmons obviously was the bookie type, to be found in every criminal organisation; not shy of sending others to death (or worse) by providing information or establishing contacts; but never dirtying his own hands with their blood. It was the kind of person Sam hated most – even more than the actual killers. They at least did their jobs without disguise. Hands on.

"Mr...Smith?"

The tone was an insult. Interesting, Sam thought. He must feel quite safe and protected. Well, he'll soon learn about his mistake.

"Let's take a seat", the shorter man said, and lowered himself to the floor. Sam glided down too, much more elegantly, his movements those of a cat ready to jump and strike out at any time.

"I hope you don't mind, but I cancelled the traditional tea ceremony. I thought we'd be more...private that way."

Sam didn't like the man´s voice. It was...oily. Too smooth...well schooled, probably Ivy League, he pondered.

Sam nodded. His silence seemed to irritate Simmons. With a nervous chuckle, he said,

"So...you seem to be the quiet type, huh! The mysterious killer, the stealthily working, lonesome murderer carrying a dark secret deep down in his soul. It´s a bit of a cliche, don't you-"

He stopped dead when he felt Sam´s knife directly on his crown jewels. The velocity with which Sam had reached out under the low table, hardly showing any change in his facial expression, had completely taken him by surprise.

What a fool, Sam thought. Playing with the Big Bad Boys...getting all puffed up. While he´s only alive as long as he´s useful to them...

"Let´s skip the niceties", he growled, staring the other man down. Simmons´ pale face showed a fine layer of perspiration now. After a second, he lowered his eyes.

"As you wish, Mr. Smith."

Sam withdrew the knife, not without gracing the other man's crotch doing so. Simmons shivered. Sam was pleased to see beads of sweat running down his temples. It was probably not the best decision to make an enemy here – but the man simply disgusted him, and as far as Sam could see, he was unimportant enough not to become a real threat.

The _business consultant_ recovered fast enough. He put on an `all business´ face, just as if they were discussing new product lines or possible tax evasion tactics.

"You already got your target´s name, I suppose?" It was a rhetorical question, and Sam didn't bother to show any reaction. His stomach wasn't as impassive, though. He felt the familiar fiery ball grow inside. Good. He'dneed all the anger he could muster for this...job.

"Good..." Simmons seemed a little nervous now.

"Your target..."

He took an envelope out of his briefcase, handing it over to Sam with a slightly trembling hand. Sam opened it, not leaving Simmons´ face with his eyes. He took out the two photos it contained and threw a quick glance at them.

Murakami...in full geisha garment; and in Western clothes. She wasn't smiling. Sam stared at her dark, serious eyes for a moment.

Seeing her picture was like getting punched in his stomach.

"The ...task... has to be carried out next Saturday, during Cherry Blossom Festival. Your target will spend the weekend at a villa situated in the Hama Rikuye Gardens – it´s an old Shogun family´s home, very romantic. A lovely place, actually." Sam stared at the man, mercilessly impassive. Simmons cleared his throat.

"Yes. Well. It is crucial that you are seen while carrying out the – act. The target will be part of a small party of guests going for an early morning walk to admire the rising sun on the trees. She will..er.. be separated by that company for a short time. This is when you have to strike. I repeat, er...you must be watched by her companions. Don't worry, you have nothing to fear, er...my...company will take care of you."

Sam still showed no reaction at all. It filled him with cruel pleasure seeing Simmons sweat and stammer under his cold stare.

"So...you see...your time frame is narrow. After you are done, run to the Japanese bridge at the small tea house facing the Tokyo Bay. A boat will be waiting for you."

"Why", Sam asked calmly.

Simmons looked confused.

"Excuse me?"

"Why do I have to be watched killing my target." Sam's voice was completely bare of any emotion.

"It´s ..er..I'm not really supposed to tell you this..."

Sam raised an eyebrow. Simmons shrank visibly.

"It has to do with the current US-Japanese trade agreements. Let's just say an American citizen murdering a Japanese geisha right in the open will be very... useful for my company´s role within US-Japanese trade relations. I can assure you you will be magnanimously rewarded, Mr. Smith. My...company...tends to show generosity if their requests are fulfilled satisfactorily."

The oily voice again. Sam stared him down for another long moment, then he nodded almost imperceptibly. He would bring this son of a bitch down with the rest of them. And he would enjoy himself hugely doing so.

"Anything else?"

He was already at his feet. Simmons stared up at him sheepishly.

"Er...no, I ...no." He scrambled to his feet, too, but by the time he had straightened up, Sam was already gone.

Although Mrs. Wessex had tried hard to get Sam to join them on their travel to Tokyo, Sam had declined, much to her husband´s obvious relief; they'd take the first plane the following morning, and would also have Murakami with them, which would complicate things in a way Sam had to avoid at any costs. The captain and his family would stay in the south part of Japan, so Sam would finally be able to take on the role again he'd played so well for the last years...the efficient, untraceable killer who didn´t ask questions. This time it would be different though. Because this role didn't fit him anymore, not as it used to. He had changed. Or – rather - he had been changed. Enchanted by a pair of slanted eyes.

Simmons had given him the address of a small private airport. His plane would start early too. Sam did not look forward to spending the whole flight with his despicable fellow American.

He never really got used to people like Simmons...maybe he hadn´t been as cold and ruthless as he had made himself and the world believe. The mask had fit – he had seen to that. But it was still a mask, he had realized as much during the last weeks on board. A mask he would dearly need for the coming task.

As the captain had invited them all to stay in their rooms for another night, Sam spent the hours pacing the small cabin. He felt restless. When he finally lay down long after midnight, still in his clothes, he kept drifting in and out of dark and twisted dreams. He was glad to see dawn creep over the misty sky eventually.

Sam got up, took his ready packed duffle bag, and left the huge boat without looking back.

Simmons hadn´t exaggerated when he'd called the airport small. It was in fact almost hidden between a gentle slope and a wooded area. The perfect place to come and go without being seen...

Sam huffed.

The Yakuza were good at that..they had only started to grow during WWII, and already had their tentacles in every major business branch inside Japan, and were expanding fast overseas...weapons and chemical industries mostly. Their organizational skills were impressive, and the centuries old Japanese code of honor and loyalty fit perfectly into their tight hierarchical structure.

"They took all the good and honorable traditions of this culture and turned them into something twisted and evil..."

Murakami's voice had been angry, with a layer of true sadness. "The Samurai was a holy warrior, equally trained in martial arts techniques and ethical standards...the Yakuza took the parts of the moral code that fit their needs, like loyalty and obedience...and they skipped the ethical and benevolent elements."

She followed the ornate embroidering on her Kimono with her finger.

"They did the same to us geishas...we are turning into simple whores wearing traditional clothes and painted faces. A voyeuristic display that destroys the "traditional" codes it puts into the window pane for everyone to stare at..."

It had made Sam infinitely sad to see her like this...a forlorn child who'd lost family, and home, and had even been ripped of the comfort of tradition and culture.

"Murakami...why do you have to go back to japan? Why didn't you just stay in the Us, hide somewhere?"

She smiled sadly. "Let´s say I got an invitation I couldn't decline... and I'm tired, Sam. I want it to end. And with you being with me... I know it will be a good ending. In its own way..."

"Ah...Mr. Smith..."

Sam turned to see Simmons approach him, wrapped tightly into a long black coat.

"The plane is still in the hangar, but we'll start on time...30 minutes maximum. Coffee?"

Sam slipped easily into his professional self again. He gave Simmons a lazy stare and a nod; time to lull the man into a wrong sense of safety. He'd use the unwanted time with Simmons to milk him for as much information as possible...Sam was good at that: Seemingly meaningless and non-committal conversation that led the others to reveal bits and parts of secrets they'd possibly not have spit out under torture...

The first part of the flight was unspectacular. Simmons was leafing through stacks of papers most of the time, scribbling numbers and comments on the sides; Sam stared out of the tiny window at clouds and occasional glimpses of green fields and a more mountainous region.

They went down once to refill on gasoline, and had lunch at a landing area similarly remote to the one in Osaka. When they were up in the air again, Sam noticed a certain nervousness in Simmons. They were nearing the Dragon´s cave...it was time to get Simmons talking.

It took some time until Sam had the man spilling information. Simmons was intimidated enough to be cautious...but Sam was good at his job. They smoked, and drank – well, Simmons drank, Sam pretended to – and talked about everything from baseball to horse racing to the US-Japanese trade agreements. Once Simmons was on track on the superiority of American culture over the Asian in general, it was easy. Without even noticing, Simmons gave Sam useful details on the parts of Yakuza he hadn´t found in Shinichi´s journal: the infiltration of US delegations.

They were nearing Tokyo when Simmons involuntarily let a bomb blow up.

"We had already built up a pretty tight network of US and Japanese businessmen working for us...and then this idiot almost blew it. Fell in love with a geisha. Can you believe it? The bitch brought him to smuggle her out of the country."

He chuckled in a smug way. It cost Sam a lot of self control not to strangle Simmons right away.

"They honestly thought they'd be safe in America! And they thought Shinichi was a smart guy...there you have it. Once the dick takes over, your brain goes down he drain. Old wisdom, my friend."

Simmons took a long swig from his drink.

"Of course we took care of them. The beautiful thing was that he came to ME. Shinichi...the Japanese traitor? He came to ME for help! Thought I was his friend...he didn't know I was Yakuza too...and had already been ordered to take care of him by one of the bosses." Simmons barked an unpleasant laugh. Sam´s fists tightened. He seemed calm and relaxed, but inside he was taught, ready to strike...

"Hahaha...he asked me to save his love...the geisha! Said he'd sacrifice himself to make her survive...idiot! It was hilarious!"

Sam was glad as hell when they finally reached Tokyo. Another private airport – larger this time, and showing some activity, too.

Simmons hurried across the runway to the hangar, holding his hat. Sam ducked under the plane´s low wing, gave a mock salute to the pilot – he didn't even blink – and followed the American to the office box at the hangar´s side.

Simmons, although slightly tipsy, was back to professional business style again. He waited for Sam before opening the door. "Let me do the talking", he said, an undertone of arrogance in his voice. The guy just couldn´t hide it – he was a douchebag directly out of the Jerks´ Yearbook.

They entered, and Sam was surprised to find a well lit, perfectly equipped office inside the rather decrepit building. The young woman at the first of three desks looked up and nodded a welcome.

"Mr. Simmons", she said, her pronunciation almost flawless.

"Yuka", he answered, approaching her desk.

"What do you have for me today?"

She looked at Sam, curiosity ...and appreciation - showing on her face for a moment only, then turned back to Simmons.

"The car is waiting behind the hangar. This" – she handed him a brown manila folder – "is for you. The other one..." she bent down and took a small envelope out of a drawer – "Is for...him."

Simmons took both the items, glancing at the envelope. He seemed surprised. Sam just stared at him, eyes cold. Simmons awkwardly shuffled his feet and handed him the envelope, a little reluctantly.

"Very well", he said, a bit strained. "Let´s get going then. Good bye, Yuka!"

"Mr. Simmons", she said again, but looked at Sam. He nodded briefly, turned, and they left the building.


	4. Chapter 4

Tokyo, at least, was a city. Sam had grown up in New York, and small towns – or, hell, the open land - gave him the creeps.

He felt at home between ten storey buildings, surrounded by the daily noise of people, cars, and construction sites (as there always was construction going on in New York), and as far as he was concerned, parks offered enough green for a life time.

Tokyo was different though. Sure, there were no signs of the war to be seen any more; and there was definitely construction going on here, too. But even in the very center, buildings were lower than he was used to – a few 8, 10 storey buildings, the rest was 6 storeys maximum. Most parts of the town were like huge suburbs. It was like New York without Manhattan. And without the crazy traffic.

Sam looked out of the window, wondering where the cars were. Bicycles – he saw lots of bicycles. But compared to New York, traffic here was like on a Sunday at 8 in the morning.

"Traffic is light", he commented.

Simmons looked up, surprised Sam was talking at all.

"Yeah...they love their trains. It's crazy at rush hour, I can tell you. Imagine living in one of the world´s biggest cities, and half of the population wants to mount a train within one hour in the morning. It's horrible."

Well, it wasn't much better in New York, Sam thought, but didn't reply.

"We're almost there", Simmons said. "You're staying at this small hotel tonight. I'd recommend you go to the garden on foot, it's a 30 minutes walk maximum. Afterwards, the boat will bring you to a train station where you can melt into the crowd."

Sam raised an eyebrow.

"Well, maybe not exactly melt into it", Simmons corrected. "But as we want you to be noticed, it's perfect. From then on, yo will be on your own."

Sam nodded. He wasn't even used to this amount of involvement from his clients. Well, it was a special situation for sure.

The hotel was small and unobtrusive, situated in a calm side street. He filled in the forms at the counterpart of the "being noticed" game – and got the key to his room on the third floor. It was simply furnished, in a clear, reduced style. Sam liked it.

He went to the window and opened it to let in the fresh spring air. He could smell the sea...he had always loved the days in New York when the wind came in from the ocean, carrying a promise of sky and clouds and freedom. Sam reached for his cigarettes. The bluish smoke swirled in the breeze coming through the open window, writing transient messages in the air.

Sleep came late, and didn't bring peace to his mind.

Sam watched the sky brighten and change it's color from dark velvety blue to a greenish turquoise. Birds were singing in the cherry trees, their beautiful chant multiplying by the second while the rising sun, though not to be seen yet, sent its light into this part of the world.

In New York people are going to bed now...and the last blackbirds will sing their good bye, he thought. He felt an unknown melancholy grip his heart...a heart he had been sure to have buried in layers upon layers of iron...hidden and protected by an armor no enemy would ever be able to destroy. And he had been right...it was not the enemy who finally cracked it open.

The first beams of sunlight fingered through the trees. The birds´concert rose to a symphony, a wild and enthusiastic celebration of the new day, of life itself.

Sam looked at the enchanting scenery. The garden was following the gentle slopes of the landscape, the natural beauty enhanced by a few old cherry trees, breathtaking in full blossom; a water canal wove through the hills, mirroring the pink clouds and the now light blue sky above, the rays of sunlight glittering on the water´s surface. From the meadow where Sam was leaning against a tree´s rough bark, it was like looking at...perfection. Nature, shaped into Paradise...

_Is that what Heaven looks like_, Sam thought. _Not that I´ll ever get to know...there´s a dungeon with my name on it down in the Pit for sure_...

He looked up at the black branches above his head. They seemed painted with a fine brush on the light pink waves of blossoms, black ink on soft watercolors, densely woven and intricate lines where the trees met. A gush of wind rustled the trees; and a snowfall of blossoms surrounded Sam all of a sudden, a magic fairy tales world, like in the stories his mother used to read to them when they were little: Once upon a time...

Sam shivered. The early morning air was chilly, and his feet were getting damp from the dew. He buried his hands in the pockets of his coat. It was almost time.

The small party slowly strolled over the wooden bridge. Sam watched the ladies, most of them beautifully dressed in their kimonos. The men wore western clothes. It hit him how a deep and irreversible change was visible in things as unimportant to himself as clothes.

At the end of the bridge, the group seemed to discuss something. Then a tiny figure parted from the rest, slowly coming up the path to the orchard-like place where Sam stood in hiding. He recognized Murakami´s graceful walk, steps short due to the weird sandals she wore, but not showing the usual mincing and toddling pace...it looked as if she was floating slightly above the ground, an ethereal fairy approaching her flower petal home.

Or, rather, the place where she was going to be murdered.

"I will be going to the shrine in the cherry orchard", Murakami had told him. "That´s our only chance, Sam. I will ask the others to stay back so I can pray in peace. The place is within eyeview of the bridge where they will be waiting for me. You will meet Yakuza´s request this way..."

She had gently touched his cheek, stroking a wayward strand of hair back behind his ear.

"It is a place of peace and beauty, Sam. Even if I had to die in a different way...an old woman, wrinkled and bowed down by a long life...I would choose a place like this."

He could still feel her fingers brushing over his lips, a butterfly's wings...

Sam watched her through a curtain of falling blossoms. The ephemeral beauty of the scene was almost unreal...

"You will think of me every time you see a cherry tree in blossom", she had said, smiling up into his tense face.

"Cherry blossoms are a symbol of transient beauty, Sam...reminding us of how short human life is, and how we should relish the time we have...make it matter, and live it to the fullest. Promise me you'll do that, Sam. Make our sacrifices matter. Live. Give you and your brother your lives back. And so many others..."

Murakami had reached the shrine. Sam could see the traces of her tiny feet in the grass, dark against the rest, where the morning sun was now glinting in millions of dewdrops bejewelling every blade of grass.

She bowed in front of the shrine, eyes closed.

Now.

Killing other human beings hadn't been difficult for Sam. When he had shot someone for the first time, he had waited for something to happen inside him – remorse, pain, fear, satisfaction – but all he had felt was ...a kind of sad wonder. He had taken a life. Turned a breathing, moving, talking being into...nothing but a memory. It was so...easy.

He had crouched down, looking into the dead eyes of the man he'd shot – a member of the Old Italian branch of organized crime. He knew the man had a family, wife and a few kids, went to church, paid his taxes like a good citizen. And he was responsible for the death of more than ten members of a rivalling mob, plus a few of his own "family" who he'd used to mask his own little sidelines, which got them killed eventually.

Was it better for a child to have a criminal, a murderer as father, or grow up with no father at all? To live with the memory of a good man rather than to find out he was a thug and a thief later...

How had this life taken a course that made it end violently like this...where had the crossroads been, where had this man taken the wrong road?

Sam had never felt remorse for his murders. But then he had only killed criminals until now.

And he wondered...had he taken a wrong turn somewhere too...and had this one decision led him to this day, to this place, and to this murder he'd unwillingly commit?

Murakami straightened up. She looked in his direction, even if she couldn't possibly see Sam. Her face was calm, composed. The hint of a smile played around her mouth. She gave a short nod, almost imperceptible.

Now. Or never.

Sam strode forward, was at her side with two large strides. God, she was so ...tiny. Fragile... like a child. He cupped the back of her head with his left hand, gently, and she leant into it, looking into his eyes. They were bright, and fearless. She smiled.

"Thank you, Sam", she whispered, and closed her eyes.

He gripped the knife tightly, and with one swift move, cut her throat.

With a sickening, wet rattle she went limp in his arm. Blood gushed out of the deep cut, soaking the embroidered flowers on her Kimono and Sam´s dark coat. He could hear shouts from the distance, and in the corner of his eye saw movement down at the bridge.

He crouched and let Murakami´s lifeless body carefully glide to the blossom-covered ground. Bowing down, he pressed one last kiss on her soft lips. They were still warm...He took in her immobile face, so calm and white against the light pink of the cherry blossoms, framed by the growing dark red pool of her own blood. He straightened up, looked at the people running in his direction, made himself visible, recognizable. Then he turned, and vanished between the cherry trees, leaving a snowfall of whirling blossoms behind.

The tiny boat waited under the wooden bridge, right where Simmons had told him. Sam was glad he had memorized the garden´s map, as parts of it were crowned with tall trees forming dark woods. It was hard to keep orientated.

He strode down to the canal, nodded to the driver, and jumped into the already moving boat. They drove down the narrow canal, found an opening in the stone walls, and took out into Tokyo Bay. The boat gained speed, and a few minutes later the driver was already approaching a landing zone within the harbor, well hidden by a huge crane and containers. Sam grabbed an iron pole, pulled himself up and stood on the harbor pier.

"Train station?", he asked the driver. The man gestured to Sam´s right, held up one hand with five fingers stretched wide, and manouvered the boat into the bay again.

So – five minutes to the station. Sam got rid of his coat – it was soaked in Murakami´s blood, and he couldn't really take the smell any longer. He let it fall into the water and watched it go down slowly. Then he turned, walked to the right between metal and wooden containers, and reached the street leading directly to the station.

It was pretty crowded. Due to the early hour, not as bad as it would probably become later, but still the train seemed already crammed, and although many passengers left, the new ones had to elbow their way in.

Sam was taken notice of. There were enough Americans to be seen in town, sure; but Sam, with his 6´4, the long mane of hair, and his general air of suppressed danger, stood out. Most of the other passengers hardly reached his shoulders.

He found a place inside the first wagon, not without shoving two men aside (they didn´t even dare to look up). Well, he was sure they´d recognize him all the same.

From now on, it would be a 180 turn. From getting noticed to vanishing completely...he was used to the second part. Not in a foreign country and culture though. He'd trust his excellent memory – he practically had a photographic memory when it came to maps – and his instincts. They´d never let him down so far.

There were rules to this game. One of them: If you use public transport, change as often as you can. Sam had perfected this method in New York; he knew every subway line, trains, bus stops, even a bunch of useful shortcuts for eventual chases by foot.

In Tokyo, all of this was a little more...complicated. He had to get off this train fast, or he'd be a sitting duck for anyone on his heels – be it police or Yakuza (and he was quite sure they´d try to get rid of him if he didn't disappear soon).

As if in sync with his thoughts, two policemen entered the wagon at the next stop. Sam didn't even try to hide...would have been useless anyway. The two had spotted him within a second, started shouting and gesturing, and made their way towards him.

The train was still relatively slow...Sam elbowed a man out of his way, was at the door the next moment, and took the handle. Then he pulled the emergency brake.

People fell against each other – it was too crowded for them to actually land on the floor -, screamed and grabbed for any hold they could reach. Sam pulled at the door. He put all his weight into it...and it opened. Slowly. In the corner of his eye he saw one of the policemen come to his feet again. He gave one last pull, and the door fully opened. He jumped out, down on the rails, and ran.

The shrill sound of the policeman's whistle followed him.

The problem was that leaving the train on track meant he was in the middle of urban nowhere. Sam ran for the next street, keen on seeking shelter between buildings. He could still see the station they´d left before, and decided to head there, when he noticed movement ahead – more policemen. How were they alerted that fast? Something wasn't adding up here...Sam swore under his breath. He jumped over a metal fence, heard his trousers tear when they caught on the barbed wire crowning it. Not good.

He slipped into a narrow lane between two rows of lower buildings, running as fast as he could as long as he was out of sight. When he turned into the bigger street at the end of the lane though, he saw more policemen - it was as if they´d been summoned there on purpose. Well – they probably were.

Sam´s mind raced. Where to turn now! Inwardly, he fumed.

He had been set up.

The officers hadn't noticed him yet – he could still make it to the end of the street, where he saw a market with stands, lots of customers crowding the area.

"Dammit", he whispered. This was so not his style.

He had made it about 30 meters when the whistling started.

Peoples startled, looking around, noticing the huge stranger running down the street with flapping trousers.

So much to disappearing.

He skidded to a halt when more policemen appeared out of nowhere right where the market began.

Sam acted on instinct. There was a door at his side. It opened easily, thank God, and he slipped in. It was a two storey building, for apartments obviously. No back door to be seen. Stairs. One could still leave a building through a window from the first floor, Sam knew it from personal experience. He took three steps at one stride, and reached the first floor, when he heard the entrance door snap open and crash against the wall. Left or right?

Houses in New York had a predictable construction plan, and Sam knew the different kinds. Here in Japan...he felt like a fish out of the water.

Left. There was light at the end of the corridor – possibly a window. Excited voices on the ground floor told him the policemen were spreading in the building – flat to flat search. Some things obviously were done the same way everywhere.

Sam ran down the dimly lit corridor...dammit, no window. Only light spilling out from under one of the doors. He turned to take the other direction when he heard the policeman's boots on the stairs.

"Balls!", he whispered. He was trapped – of course he could try to overrun the policemen, they´d probably be too surprised to even react; but he knew damn well there were more police forces outside, and he wouldn't be able to outrun all of them - or knock them all out.

Just when he decided to run, the door to his left opened. A hand grabbed him, and as Sam hadn't expected it at all, pulled him off his feet easily – and the next moment, he found himself inside an apartment, a hand pressed on his mouth, and staring into the startlingly blue eyes of a complete stranger.


	5. Chapter 5

The man held a finger to his lips, and let go of Sam´s mouth. He gestured him to follow his lead, and went through an open entrance into something that looked like a tiny living-bedroom with an even smaller kitchen in a niche to the left. The stranger headed for another door to the right, opened it, and waved at Sam to step in. It was a combination of bathroom and cupboard, with a curtain covering a deep shelf containing everything from toilet paper to a stack of shirts. To Sam´s surprise, Mr. Blue Eyes pulled the curtain open as wide as he could, to reveal a narrow niche behind the shelf. Sam understood. He slipped into the niche – not without effort; the stranger rearranged a few boxes on the shelf to cover him completely from sight, pulled the curtain closed, and left the room.

As if on clue, somebody knocked at the door, forcefully so. Sam could hear a fast conversation in Japanese – one very deep, almost gravelly voice, one rather high pitched. He followed the sound of footsteps marking the policemens way through the tiny flat, he heard the balcony door open, then close again, and then the light in his hide-out went on, and someone stepped into the cramped room. The curtain was pulled aside, but not far enough to reveal the niche where Sam kept his breath. Somebody bowed to look into the bottom shelf (as if Sam would have fit in there...), the shower curtain was moved, then the light went out, the door closed, a few words were exchanged; and then it was silent.

Sam waited. The shelf´s side pressed into his chest, and he had the weird feeling he was running out of oxygen. Fighting the urge to free himself, he listened into the complete darkness. Heck, he had trusted a stranger...with his life, more or less. What if the man was just another criminal – most probably, a member of Yakuza whose task it was to bring Sam in...or even take him out without leaving traces.

The door opened, the curtain was pulled again. The stranger moved the boxes to the side so Sam could slip out of the niche.

Within an instant, Sam had the man pinned against the bathroom wall. He pressed his forearm against the stranger´s throat, just forceful enough to make him feel the threat, but not doing any harm – yet.

The man stared at him with his large eyes...they were almost ridiculously blue. And scared. And...innocent. Suddenly, he had Murakami´s face in front of him again. He shook the picture away.

Sam glared into the man´s eyes for a moment, releasing the pressure a little bit.

"Who the hell are you?", he whispered, aware of the sounds of footsteps above – the police were searching the upper floor.

"Did Yakuza send you? What are they playing at!"

The man´s expression changed from scared to confused-and- scared. Sam noticed the long, dark lashes. The strong chin, cleft in an adorable way. The pale skin, enhancing the eye´s color. It was as if he held a male western version of Murakami in his arms – not because of a special similarity, but for the expression he found in the stranger´s eyes...a kind of innocence that was not sullied by the experiences life may have to give out, not even the bad, tormenting, or the disgusting ones. And Sam could see the sadness deep within the man, one that had to go back a long time, having become a part of his personality...it was as if he was looking into a mirror of his own pain.

Sam felt a sudden urge to touch the man's lips. They were...unique.

Instead, he took his arm off the guy's throat, still staring him down threateningly though.

"Why did you help me!"

The stranger touched his throat with shaking hands. Sam waited.

"Well? You know, in my world, you don't just get saved by strangers out of the goodness of their hearts. So – who do you belong to!"

Sam´s terse whispering voice seemed to freak the guy out enough to finally make him talk.

"I...I work for the US Trade Department...the ongoing trade agreements negotiations?" A voice, rough from Sam´s treatment, and deeper than Sam would have expected. It was...sexy.

"I'm a translator, and cultural advisor?"

The man made every sentence sound like a question. His eyes searched for understanding in Sam´s face.

"Please...please don't kill me", he whispered, almost inaudibly.

Sam stared into the pleading eyes.

" . .me." He pressed the words out, shoving the man against the wall again.

"I – I don't know! I thought – I thought I'd seen you with my boss yesterday, and I didn't really think-"

"Your boss!"

Sam increased the pressure on Blue Eye´s chest. He was already pretty sure the guy was NOT involved with any criminal organisation – and he trusted his instinct in reading people – but it wouldn't hurt scaring him a bit more. He could turn out useful. And then, it was kind of turning him on. After all the stress, emotional and otherwise, his body ached for relief...and why not getting it by fucking a damn hot stranger with a mouth made for...

"Mr. Simmons?"

Sam zoomed in again. The other man cringed under the sudden cold focus in his tormentor´s eyes.

"Simmons is your boss?"

"Y...yes? He´s head negotiator on the US team? I saw you get out of his car yesterday evening? If it – if it was you?"

Sam let go of the man, but only to grab his arm and drag him out of the bathroom, and sit him down on the perfectly made day bed.

He stood tall above him, staring down into the guy´s face. It had taken on a resigned expression.

"It was me", he said calmly. "It still doesn't explain why you helped me, hid me and lied to the police. You don't strike me as the criminal type."

The guy looked up, and – was that indignation in his eyes?

"I am NOT a criminal! I'm pretty sure you are, though! What on earth Mr. Simmons had to deal with you, I can't possibly imagine!"

WHOA. Sam couldn't help smiling. Where did that passion come from all of a sudden...together with the fierce attitude!

He loved how the blue eyes had gone darker with the anger...God, the man was a tease...Sam had always appreciated passion – in women and men. And he used to take his pleasure from both.

"You're right", he answered, coolly.

"I think we have to talk about your boss."

"So- what´s your name?"

Blue Eyes stared up at Sam. His mouth was a thin line.

Sam gave him a lazy smile.

"I have to call you something. If you don't tell me, fine. I'll just call you Blue Eyes then."

The guy snorted, much against his own will.

"Blue Eyes? Seriously? What is this, an Italian mob story?"

Sam saw the fear behind the cockyness. He thought about the calm and predictable life this man probably had led until this very day. Only to see it overturned by a stranger – who he´d invited into his life himself, in some way. It still intrigued Sam why he´d done so.

"Kind of", he answered. "Yakuza, more of."

The man stared at Sam as if he was a ghost.

"What?"

Sam could tell the guy knew exactly what Yakuza was. And what messing with their politics implied. He blanched visibly.

Sam leant against the table in his back.

"Your boss Simmons works for them", he said matter of factly, watching the other man´s face for a reaction. He got it right on. Shock.

"What?", he cried out, voice strangled, staring back at Sam, incredulity and fear in his eyes. And, after a moment, something like a dawning realization.

"Oh my God", he whispered, face tense. "Oh my God."

Sam cocked his head, watching the other man with interest.

"You had a suspicion?"

Blue Eyes shook his head slowly, dazed. "A suspicion – no, it wasn't...it was just... some things not adding up..."

He looked up at Sam again. "How do you know? Why should I believe you!"

"Because I work for them, too", was Sam´s quiet answer. The other man took in a sharp breath. He made a motion as if he wanted to just get up and run. Sam only had to righten himself up again, tightening his muscles, to make him freeze.

"At least, I did. Not sure, but I think I'm now a risk for them to get rid of. All this police outside, already waiting for me – I´ve been set up."

The guy eyed Sam with slightly squinted eyes.

"I'm not sure I feel sorry for you", he croaked. Sam was surprised. Sarkasm, huh...he hadn't really expected it.

"I killed someone", he answered, as calmly as before.

"On Yakuza´s orders. There´s no need to feel sorry for me."

A blank stare. Sam could practically see the other man shrink back against the wall.

"So...that´s what you are? A killer...for hire?" It wasn't more than a rough whisper.

Sam looked into the scared eyes...scared, and – with a hint of contempt in them.

Sam usually didn't give a damn about peoples´opinion of him. He wasn't delusional about his profession, about the path he had chosen. But somehow he didn't like being judged by this stranger. He felt anger boiling up inside his stomach – and the unexpected need to explain his motives. What was it with this guy!

"I am", he said, voice so low it was barely audible. "But don't you dare judge me without having any idea who I am."

He stared down, his face a mask.

"And now you'll tell me your name. I'll not ask another time."

Blue Eyes stared back. One, two, three seconds passed. Something shifted...Sam suddenly got the impression the other man could read people as easily as he himself did. He was not used to being scrutinized like this – as if the eyes looked right down into his soul. It was – unpleasant, and embarrassing, and – strangely relieving.

More seconds passed, and the situation just was on the verge of turning awkward, when the other man finally spoke. He seemed to have found something in Sam's eyes he hadn't expected, either.

"Castiel", he said, voice only a deep growl.

"But you can call me Castiel."

It was not really that risky confiding in a guy he had never seen before in his life, he did practically not know anything about besides his name and address, and who seemed to have a weird and slightly disturbing ability to look into peoples´ heads. At least that was what Sam told himself while he was laying out the basics of his connections to Yakuza for Castiel. He still could kill the man within two seconds. But there was something in the man´s eyes, and demeanor, that opened floodgates he had kept tightly closed for so many years it hurt even coming near them. He didn't spill everything, of course – he was too professional for that – but without even being fully aware, he had told Castiel about his family. About the one day of his life that changed everything. A broken father, a dead mother, a lost brother.

Castiel just looked at him, and listened. He seemed not only to hear the words though. Sam felt like having all the buried emotions touched by a searching light, the pain, the fear, the anger. It was as if Castiel had the ability to feel all the unsaid stuff that lay behind the words.

His gaze didn't waver; he only stirred when Sam mentioned Dean being taken.

When Sam fell silent, wondering what on earth had hit him to talk at all, Castiel kept looking at him for a few seconds. Sam stared back, daring him to say, or do anything to give him an excuse to – strike something? Hit his face? Kiss him and throw him on the bed?

When Castiel finally spoke, it made Sam jerk. He'd already been mind-stripping the other man and gotten pretty far.

"How did you find out about Yakuza still having your brother...and using him?"

Sam watched him with squinted eyes.

"I had help with the research. Old family friend."

"And you are absolutely sure you'll find your brother here."

It wasn't a question, but a statement.

"Yes."

"But...are you sure it is your brother you'll find?"

Castiel looked up. Sam saw compassion in his eyes. It made him uncomfortable.

He opened his mouth to give an answer, but hesitated.

Castiel had hit the one, big Unknown Quantity. The guy had set eyes on him for the first time one hour ago – if you left the short glimpse from the day before aside - and still had dug deep enough into Sam to unearth his biggest fear.

The one question Sam couldn't give an answer to.

Who would he find when he finally got to Dean: the brother he had lost? A person so twisted and broken there wasn't much left to tie him to the young, carefree boy Sam had known and adored? A cold blooded monster?

Sam tore his eyes from Castiel´face.

"I don't know", he whispered. Looking back at the other man, his voice gained strength again.

"But I do know one thing. I have to find him. And whoever – whatever it is he has become, I have to try and find my brother in it...him. He´s...he´s all the family I´ve got, and I cannot – I cannot believe they could have taken away everything he´s once been. He was a good person. A – a kind soul. There – there must something be left of that, right?" Sam stared down at his hands. The hands that had tortured, and hurt, and killed.

"He is my brother, and I have to save him", he said.

_Because that´s the only way all that I've done – who I've become, makes any sense at all. The only chance I too can be saved. The only way to dig out the boy I once was under all this cold violent anger. _

But Sam didn't say that aloud. He was barely able to think it.

A minute passed in silence. Sam felt oddly at peace for the first time in weeks. He had a purpose, and it had dawned on him just now again he would follow it – at any cost.

"I will help you."

Sam looked up, right into the incredibly blue eyes.

"Why?"

Castiel lowered his eyes to his hands, tugging at a thread of the bed cover. Sam waited. After a minute, he sat down on one of the two wooden chairs.

"I had a brother once, too", Castiel finally said. "Not by birth...I didn't have siblings. But he was...he and his parents were my chosen family. I felt more connected to them than I ever did to my biological parents..."

Sam listened to the other man´s breathing. After a while, he asked, "What happened?"

Castiel looked up for a moment only.

"Human stupidity", he huffed. "Or war, if you prefer that."

He sighed.

"I grew up near Seattle...right besides of one of the largest settlements of Americans of Japanese origin. Usually, there wasn'tmuch contact, although they had already been there for generations. It was more an...indifferent coexistence."

He shifted on the bed, pulling up his legs and hugging them with his arms.

"I was kind of a lonely child...my father was in the army, and I didn't see much of him...my mother...she was... So I was outside most of the time, there was an old sandpit behind our house. It was my kingdom. And then, one day, this other boy appeared. Takemi."

Sam saw the small smile on Castiel´face.

"He was even smaller and scrawnier than me, if that was even possible. I don't know why, but we kind of were made for each other. When we started school after summer, I was really happy to see him in my classroom." He rocked back and forth slowly, staring at nothing in particular.

"Well...we became really good friends. Brothers. And I stayed more time at his house than at my own home. Not that anyone noticed", he added, with a bitter undertone.

"Then Pearl Harbor happened, and our government went paranoid about the Japanese Americans. I guess you know about the camps."

Sam nodded slowly. "Were your friends taken there?"

Castiel huffed again."Of course they were. Didn't matter none of them had ever harmed anyone, never broken any law, never shown anything but loyalty and love to the US. Takemi and me, we were 12, 13 years old. We built Airforce plane models together for Christ´s sake. And then, within one week, they had to pack their things and leave."

He kept rocking. His voice had become even rougher than before.

"When they were finally allowed to return to their homes, it was different. It never – it never went back to the way it had been before. After a few months, they moved to another city. And my father was permanently sent to Japan soon after that, so my mother and I went with him too."

His eyes grew darker. "Takemi´s father...I don't know what happened to him in the camp, but – he wasn't the man he had been before when they came back. He was the kindest and most patient person I have ever met in my life. And then...it was as if someone had taken his strength and energy away, and left an empty robot. Functioning, working, but soulless. It destroyed Takemi´s mother too...and Takemi...he..."

Castiel didn't go on, and Sam didn't push him. He could perfectly imagine what the whole situation had done to Castiel´friend. He´d lived through it himself.

"I'm sorry", he said.

Castiel nodded slowly. "Me too", he murmured.

It all ended in Castiel studying Japanology, history and - because his father insisted – economics in Tokyo; and when his parents moved back to the US, he didn't go with them, but stayed in Japan, working for the US department of trade in various jobs, the last two years for the new trade agreements, with Simmons as his boss.

"Have you ever tried to find him?", Sam asked, a while after Castiel had fallen silent.

"Takemi?", Castiel asked, and Sam could tell he only did so to gain time.

"No, James Dean in his red leather jacket", he sighed. Castiel huffed.

"I did...as good as a teenager could back then. I found out squat."

Castiel shook his head.

"Sometimes I can see his face in the crowd. His 15 year old face. Somehow Takemi didn't grow older in my imagination."

He looked at Sam, head tilted. Sam just sat there, lower arms on his knees, and frowned at the floor.

He only looked up when Castiel started chuckling. Genuinely surprised, he straightened up. Castiel´shoulders twitched, and soon he was laughing out loud, still rocking, head bent back. Sam shook his head in wonder.

"What´s so funny?", he asked, not sure how he felt about Castiel´strange behaviour. It had been a long time since anyone had laughed at him. Precisely since one night when the doorbell of their family apartment had buzzed, and his Mom had opened the door to two polite strangers, who later turned out to be killers and abductors hired to destroy four lives in the time it took his father to run home three blocks.

"I haven't talked about this to anyone. Ever. For...12, 13 years? No one. And here I am, spilling the story of my life to a stranger, who happens to be a hired killer and murderer and I don't even want to know what else...isn't it hilarious!"

Sam watched the other man with comprehension. He showed clear signs of hysteria, eyes watering, whole body twitching. He couldn't tell exactly when the laughing turned into hitched, painful sobs. Sam only knew he had never met anybody as strange as this blue eyed guy in front of him, and he sure had had his share of weirdos so far.

He got up and grabbed Castiel's shoulders firmly.

"Castiel", he said, shaking him. "Castiel ..."

The other man stared up at him, body jerking, producing something between laughing and crying, tears running down his face.

Sam shook him again, rather violently this time, and could hear Castiel´ teeth rattle. It worked though. Castiel stopped making any sound at all, he just sat there, pinned to the wall by Sam, staring into his face with huge eyes. Disturbingly blue eyes.

That was when Sam crashed his lips on Castiel´mouth. With force.

And that also was when he got surprised by the other man again, because Castiel grabbed Sam´s hair and pulled him even closer, and kissed him back so violently Sam split his lip open. He tasted blood, and it turned him on in an unexpected way. Then Castiel´tongue dived into his mouth, exploring and taking possession...Sam grabbed the black, wild hair, jerking Castiel's head back, swirling his tongue around Castiel´, hardly giving him a chance to breathe. The hidden passion in the other man was a tease, sending hot energy right down into his groin; lips still glued to Castiel´, he slammed him down on the bed. Castiel stared up at him, a surprised, passionate, aroused look in his eyes, fear and fire mixing in a way it drove Sam mad. There was nothing soft or romantic in their kissing. It was pure need, want, lust. Their hands grabbed, and touched, and tore, leaving marks where they found bare skin; nails dug into flesh, fingers tangled into hair. When Castiel groaned in an almost animalistic way, his back arching up to meet the other man's groin, it sent hot waves through Sam´s body. He pressed down, grinding and pushing, evoking more strangled moans; panting heavily, Sam wandered down the bared chest, licking and biting, pinning down the other man with one arm, while the other went to his waistband. He ripped out Castiel´shirt, fumbled with his belt buckle, all the while working his lips downwards, tasting the soft skin on Castiel's tummy, breathing in his scent. Castiel freed his hands from Sam´s grip, and grabbed the mess of his long hair, tugging at it painfully. Sam growled. Having this man, this stranger, writhing and moaning under his lips was driving him crazy in ways...he jerked the fly of Castiel´trousers open, and swiped them down his butt with both hands. When his teasing lips touched the already hard cock, Castiel's hips jerked up, searching for more, more friction, more pressure, more ...Sam pressed his hands on Castiel's prominent hipbones, pressing him into the mattress, holding him still; he felt lust vibrating down to the other man´s bones- it was like touching electricity. His lips tugged their way from the base of Castiel's cock up to the smooth and tender head, teasing and torturing, nippling at the rim, tongue licking its way up to the tiny slit. Castiel buckled up uncontrollably, producing sounds Sam had never heard anyone make. He had had his fun with boys, and men, before, but this...this was new.

Looking up at Castiel, he found him staring down right into his eyes, pupils wide, eyes almost black, and glazed like a drunk man. He was already at the verge of exploding, and Sam hadn't even started the real thing yet. It filled him with a wild satisfaction to see this man totally loose it under his touches...he felt his own penis twitch, and swell, claiming attention. Not yet. Not...yet...he sucked in the head of Castiel´cock. Castiel hissed, nails digging into Sam´s scalp...Sam let his tongue swirl around the rim, one, two, three times – until he felt a desperate pull on his hair. He looked up, giving in to the movement, and relieving Castiel's cock. Castiel was sweating, pearls running down his face, and chest; his hair was a mess, lips wet and swollen, and his eyes – "Take...me...want..you...", he panted, incoherently, voice a hoarse growl, barely human. Sam straightened up, kneeling between Castiel's legs, staring down into the other man´s face. "Now...please...want...need..."

Sam opened his own fly, pulled down his trousers, finally got rid of them; he thumbed Castiel cock one more time, making the other man whimper with pleasure, slicking his fingers with precome. When he touched Castiel hole, circling its rim, Castiel almost lost it. Sam bent down, stared into the huge eyes, wiped the sweaty hair from his front in a gesture somewhere between reassuring and violent...he entered Castiel´ hole with one finger, two, making him jerk and writhe under him; it was all the preparation Sam would give him, as he felt his own control reaching its borders, cock twitching and almost hurting from need.

"Want...now...", Castiel hissed, his hips raising to meet Sam´s, hands pulling, tearing, nails scratching...Sam let the already leaking head of his penis linger at Castiel´hole for an instant – and then he pushed in.

It was raw, and brutal, and violent. Pure. No thinking, no regards, no consideration. It was pounding, and pushing, and hammering, muscles and bones and sweat. Somewhere on the way, Castiel had slung his legs around Sam´s back, then shoulders, leaving his lean body nearly folded in half, giving Sam the angle he needed to hit the one spot that made Castiel gasp, and yelp, and claw at Sam´s neck, pulling him down into a kiss that was more a predator´s bite...and then, Castiel´whole body tensed, arched, and Sam felt shivers running through him as if he was being electrocuted; he couldn't contemplate the other man's orgasm for long, though, as he was reaching his own peak, vision going white, sound dying, and then everything was just nerves, feeling, being. Sam thrusted a few more times, hips jerking so hard his hip bones hurt, pulling out, pushing in, out, in, out, in – and then, the white-hot, blissful on the brink of pain, relief.

Sam fell down, half on top of Castiel, half on the bed, panting violently; he felt Castiel´chest heaving, heard his gasping intakes of air, like a drowning man pulled from the water.

He was...spent. Closing his eyes, he waited for his senses to start functioning properly again...he listened to Castiel´ breathing slowing down eventually, felt the frantic beating of both their hearts, smelled the sweat, the hormones, the sex...his fingers felt for the sticky mess on Castiel´stomach...smeared it on this incredibly smooth, flat belly...caught on the rim of his navel...

A deep, growling sound escaped the other man, satisfied, exhausted. Sam considered getting up, cleaning up, but instead he closed his eyes again and just lay there, not even pulling up his briefs, the slight draught cool on his sweaty skin, making him shiver. Only when he started to feel cold he pushed himself away from the warm body at his side, causing Castiel to moan in irritation, and turn on his side, looking for warmth. Sam stood at the side of the bed, looking down at the man he'd just had the most mind blowing sex of his life with: a lean, almost scrawny body, pale, goosebumps showing on the calves and arms; dark shadows on the cheeks, long black lashes standing out against the bluish skin. Castiel didn't open his eyes; Sam took the free part of the bed´s day cover and spread it over Castiel´body, getting a "hmmmmmm..." in return. He chuckled, shaking his head in wonder – he still wasn't sure what the hell had just happened here – and went for the bathroom.

When he came out, cleaned up, wearing one of Castiel shirts, he was fast asleep. Sam took one of the cushions off his bed, sat down in the low stuffed chair, stretched his long legs, and settled in for a long wait.


	6. Chapter 6

Sam woke up - it was 3 in the morning. The same dream again. Murakami and her sacrifice...he was indebted to her forever. He looked outside the window. Tokyo was still rebuilding itself after the destruction of the War. It had built itself up quite faster than any of the other countries that had been devastated by it. Its economy was slowly picking up pace again. It seemed that the country's friendship with the United States was reaping its benefits. That friendship was helping Japan in all of its walk of its life, including its dark side. The Yakuza was helping the U.S government to combat its enemies in the far east in its own way, by trading in arms and ammunitions and through smuggling drugs, arms and ammunitions.

Castiel was sleeping peacefully next to him. The man had been a Godsend. It seemed the Gods were on his side this time. Not only did he save him from the police after Murakami's assassination, but he worked for Simmons as well. He wasn't just a saviour but an important contact as well. Castiel had no idea how much he had helped Sam when while having dinner he casually mentioned that Mr Simmons received a rather weird telegram that Castiel had delivered. The telegram read 'Edo stop bandrei30 stop E.N'. He said Mr Simmons was very annoyed at Ken, the office help, since it was his job to get the telegrams.

Sam was sitting at a tea house, watching Ken. He figured that the note for Simmons was from Edogawa Nakamura. It meant something would be delivered to the port near bandrei. He needed to know when, what and exactly where the shipment was arriving. Ken being the regular post boy for Simmons, he was his best bet to figure out what was going to happen on the Friday 30th. Ken was a regular Japanese Joe – he really hated Simmons. It was 6 in the evening, and Ken was already drinking his way to glory. Sam was really amazed of Ken's ability to drink sake. The rice wine was pretty strong for Sam who had stopped after just 4 drinks. "I hate the guy...he thinks...he's better than me", Ken slurred. Working at the U.S. embassy had improved Ken's English, he spoke it better than most people Sam had talked to in Japan. Sam motioned with his hands for another bottle of sake after having finished pouring the contents of the first bottle for Ken. He was letting Ken really blow off his steam. "I know who he really is...we all serve the same master...Yakuza..."  
>"What happened?"<br>"Ahh...just one mistake I do and then he screams at me in front of his pretty boy assistant. You know that guy has no idea what his asshole of a boss mixed up in"  
>Pretty boy ... he wasn't wrong there, Sam thought. "For example, does he know that Simmons getting contraband stuff into the country which his government has banned in Japan!"<br>"Really? I can't say I believe you ... an U.S. official would never be involved in such things. I mean - why?"  
>"Haha, of course you won't. But what if I tell you that that Simmons will be picking a package for the Yakuza from the docks at 8.30. Then would you believe me?"<br>"Well that's pretty specific, I must say" Sam gestured for another bottle and left the tea house paying for Ken's bill.

So Sam now had the time and place of the transaction. Now the next part of his plan was supposed to go off. Since Simmons had framed him by setting the police on him, well, revenge was going to be even sweeter, Sam thought smiling to himself.

On the night of the 30th, he was so ready for Simmons. The next part of Sam's plan was officer Takagi Shiro. A rare specimen on the Japanese police force. He wanted to end the Yakuza at all cost. He was also the same officer who had ordered for Sam to be hunted down through the streets of Tokyo. It was funny to see how Yakuza used the very people who wanted them dead. So Takagi would be informed about this transaction. Then Simmons would be right where Sam wanted him. Takagi would be useful to him later on...when his plan to end as much of the Tokyo Yakuza branch as he could reach would go through. He needed someone trustworthy and obsessive enough to send all the material he´d gained from his father, and Shinichi´s diary, to, aside from US officials. It never hurt to have someone pinched from two sides if you really wanted to hurt them.

Simmons was a smart guy, he hadn't taken his car, because that would set alarms off at the embassy. He was travelling by train. Sam was already there, at the point of the meeting. Edogawa' s boat hadn't arrived yet. He could see a silhouette of a man wearing an overcoat and a hat - Simmons. He also spotted Takagi and his men hiding next to the container waiting to pounce on Simmons. It was a quiet night, even though it was raining. In the distance he could see Edogawa with his boat. He lit a lantern and sent it floating in the air. Everyone was on the lookout for it. For Edogawa it meant that something was wrong and for the police it meant that Simmons was signalling to the shipment. As Sam looked through his binoculars, some of the men got down with the boxes and swam with them to the other side.

On the other side, Edogawa was peering through his binoculars to see Simmons, waving at him like a madman, signalling that everything was clear. Edogawa inched closer and almost set his foot on the dock, when Sam fired another flare, thus illuminating the police who were hiding right behind Simmons. It was too late for Edogawa, who was a known Yakuza face. The police sprang into action and went towards Edogawa - Simmons just stood there turning all white as though he had seen a ghost. As it turned out, the flare was also a signal for Edogawa's men that he was in danger. The firing began from both sides. Sam rolled a smoke bomb in the scuffle and smoke filled the area... he reached for Edogawa and carried him away from all this mayhem, right to a car he had parked on the other side of the street. When the smoke cleared, Simmons lay there, eyes still open, a shocked look on his face. He had been shot in the back and was lying in the pool of his own blood.

Edogawa raised his head from the back seat of Sam's hired car. He looked into the rearview mirror, and Sam said, "It's alright - you can sit up."

Edogawa sat up straight and dusted his coat. "Thank you."

Sam just nodded at him.

"Who are you?", Edogawa asked, with a heavy accent and a deep husky voice.

"I'm just a guy at the wrong place at the wrong time."

"Did you come sight-seeing?", the other man asked, laughing at his own joke.

"I was working for Simmons."

"So are you the driver?"

"Driver, transporter, body guard - whatever you like to call me."

"I didn't know he even had a bodyguard."

"Oh, he just hired me for this particular assignment. Told me that he didn't trust his usual lot. Now I know why..."

"What do you mean?"

"Well I think he wanted to double cross you guys". Edogawa looked at him confusedly.

Sam continued. "Well... I did see him talking to a cop. I think it was on my first day?"

"That bastard", Edogawa said under his breath. He looked out of the window. "Where are we going?"

"Well... I'm just following the plan, and taking you to the hotel we were supposed to go to, after the deal was done. I think it's in Shizuka."

"I cannot believe that Simmons would turn on us like that", Edogawa murmured.

"Listen... you, why did you save me?"

"Can I be honest here?"

"Sure."

"I kind of lost track of Simmons in that smoke, so I just lunged in pulled out the first person I got. I put you in the car and made my escape. After driving away for a while I stopped the car and looked at you. I was almost going to throw you out but then I saw those tattoos on your arm and I realized I was in big trouble. If I knew this had anything to do with the Yakuza I would have never taken this job". Edogawa allowed himself to laugh a little.

"Listen boy ... we are not going to Shizuka. Take this left turn here". Sam did as he was told, and took the next turn. "Now a right here and once you see the circle take a left." Sam followed his instructions to the dot. He could see that they were now in the business district in central Tokyo. All the buildings were quiet and dark. As they took the next turn left, Sam realized that they were now heading towards the outskirts of Tokyo. There were fewer houses, and long patches of empty land on both sides.

"Take the turn left" Edogawa said heavily. Sam figured that maybe Edogawa was hurt.

"Stop here", the other man suddenly screamed. Sam stopped ... there was dust everywhere. They were on a dirt road and had stopped in front of huge structure that looked like a monastery. It was three storeys high, and there was a very old man stepping out with a lantern in his hand.

He asked in Japanese "who goes there?" Sam looked into the back seat and saw that Edogawa had passed out. He got out of the car and walked towards the old man. He explained his situation in whatever Japanese Castiel had taught him. The old man who Sam figured was a monk or priest came down the steps with Sam and helped get Edogawa out of the car. Before going inside the building, Sam pulled out the first aid kit from the trunk. As Sam placed Edogawa on the floor of the temple room the monk offered him, he noticed in the lamp´s dim light that the right side of

Edogawa's white coat was now crimson. He pulled open his shirt and coat and saw that there was a bullet lodged where his ribcage ended.

"This could take a while" he said to himself putting on his gloves.

A few hours later, Sam, who had fallen asleep with his back to a wall, woke up when he smelled the sweet smell of incense and heard low chanting. He got up and followed the sound, finally reaching the prayer hall which was lit up with candles. It was quiet and peaceful. Sam had never experienced such calm, silence and peacefulness... The monk was sitting in front of an altar, cross-legged on the floor, with a prayer wheel in one hand. "Good morning" he said without looking at Sam. "You had a very restless night" he said in Japanese.

"I'm sorry if I disturbed you."

"Oh no. I'm an old man you see. Long hours of sleep are a luxury now. But whatever sleep I get its peaceful and enough for me. I fear it is not the same for you". He was still looking ahead at the huge statue of Buddha.

Sam felt himself stiffen; he wondered how much the guy had really heard. Did he talk in his sleep?

"My son... whatever battle it is that you're fighting, remember that the real enemy is inside of you and not outside."

Sam just smiled at his words and wondered how true the old man was. He looked around - there was a samurai tapestry on one of the walls.

"That's general Ishiguro. He was a celebrated general. After a battle with the northern tribes he had united the kingdom once and forever for his King. The battle had lasted for five long years. The general had lost many men. In desperation he had recruited boys as young 14. The general won the war and went to the battlefield to take stock. The general saw his reflection in the pool of blood of his youngest soldier. He committed hara-kiri in his tent that night. He realized that in order to get what he wanted, to fight his war, he had gone to the depths of hell as you might say. What he didn't know was that hell often awakens the demon inside of you."

Sam heard rustling from Edogawa's room. "Your friend is awake. You should leave soon. Things that remains hidden in the dark of the night cause difficulty in sunlight"

Sam left the monk with some self-doubt in his heart.

"You're still here? Why didn't you run away?" Edogawa said, looking at his bandages.

"I never believed in abandoning ship, or dying people at that. And where could I hide from the Yakuza?"

"Haha" It's was dry, rough, yet still a strong laugh. For the first time Sam had a good look at Edogawa's face. He had small beady eyes with bags under it, a long slender nose, big lips, a scruff shave. All in all, his weathered face showed hard life. Edogawa was quietly looking at Sam for a while, like he was trying to make a decision. Finally he spoke.

"Boy ... would you like to work for us?"

Sam had finally managed to breach this well-guarded underworld. He showed that he was considering the offer. "What do I get back in return?"

"Everything you can imagine...you'll live like a king..." He put forth his hand. Sam shook it, and both men were smiling thinly.

"I'm your Kyodai, or big brother. There's just one rule - you never leave Yakuza. It's a one way street.", he said, grinning at Sam. _I'm in it till the end_, Sam thought to himself.

After they had a humble breakfast made by the monk, they left the monastery. As they were driving, Edogawa murmured, "I won't be able to say this in front of the others, but -thank you...uhm... I mean it. Thank you very much."

Sam merely smiled into the rearview mirror. He saw that Edogawa was looking outside the window, he seemed to be considering something. As soon as they arrived at the city, Edogawa began barking directions. They came to a halt in front of a tea house. Three men came running out at as Edogawa stepped out. "We thought you didn't make it" said one of the three pretty agitated guys in Japanese. Edogawa just looked at him, and he closed his mouth. He told them to get in and drive, they had to go to Shinjuku. He bent down with great difficulty and gestured to Sam to sit with him in the backseat. Sam moved from the driver's seat, went to the back, and sat with Edogawa in the back.

"You are curious to know where we are going to."

"I am, but then I'm sure you will tell me soon."

Edogawa smiled at this and said "Haha...loyalty and obedience ... the two most important qualities for a Yakuza member". He mentioned to Sam that he was being taken to one of the waka gashira (first lieutenant), or Edogawa's boss. He informed Sam that Mouri San controlled the 4 regions which included most of the northern parts of Tokyo. The car now had stopped near the entertainment center of town. But as it was common with such places, it was almost dead in the morning. Sam and Edogawa left the car, and Edogawa asked the others to wait outside the building they were about to enter. The place looked more like a restaurant than a casino, with chairs topped on the tables and with only the sound of a fan disturbing the eerie silence. They walked into the farthest corner of the place and Sam saw a staircase leading up.

They slowly walked up the dark and narrow staircase, at end of which they were greeted by a guard, who smiled at Edogawa. He whispered something to the guard, and he opened the door for both of them. It opened unto a terrace. It was sparsely furnished, but had a small collection of plants in one corner, and a low lying table with four cushions. A man sat on one of the cushions, and he smiled at Edogawa, motioning for them to sit at the table and join him. They both started, but Edogawa pressed a hand on Sam's chest and stopped him.

He went over to talk to who Sam thought was Mouri San. He watched Edogawa walk over, and talk to the man in a hushed voice. The man was mostly nodding, but then he suddenly said something, when Edogawa mentioned Simmons. Sam couldn't infer what the man said. His accent was much harsher than Sam had heard so far... Osaka, he figured, Castiel had told him about the different accent. The man was looking in Sam's direction and nodding now. Edogawa motioned over to him to come closer.

Sam bowed down and the man bowed in return. He held Sam's hand, and shaking it, he said "Arigato, Mr. Smith, and welcome". After this the man left Sam and Edogawa alone. Sam looked at Edogawa questioningly. "He has a meeting, but he approves of you - on one condition."

Sam raised an eyebrow at this interjection.

"He wants you to prove yourself..."

"Okay ...how?"

Edogawa gave him a slanted smile. "That's a question to ask now. ...Have you heard of the zero sum game?"

"You mean a win-win situation" Sam said smiling.

"You're much too smart , Vincent. I have a proposition for you ... why don't you help me, and in that way, you help yourself. I need you to take somebody out for me, and by doing this, you get an entry into the organization."

Sam just smiled, and Edogawa knew he had found his man.

"But I have a condition too", Sam added. Now it was Edogawa's turn to look confused.

"I need you to trust me."

"I do not follow" Edogawa asked.

"I want you to come clean. Tell me the who, the what, and most important, the why...I know you're asking yourself - why should you... but that's my condition. I wanna finish the job, and stay alive, too."

Edogawa stared at him hard, and long, before he answered.


	7. Chapter 7

It was a bright sunny morning, with birds chirping, and it smelled of spring. Yoshiro wished that only the days wouldn't go so fast. He could hear his son and his wife moving around the house. He got up and rolled his bed up. Leaving his room, he saw the sleeping form of his young daughter at far end of the room - Kiyoshi. She was blossoming into a beautiful woman. Unfortunately, he wasn't the only one who was noticing the changes in her. He remembered the last time Senpai had looked at her when he had come over to remind him of his unpaid debts. He touched the stub of his missing finger. They had extended his deadline, but it was coming to an end... very soon. He stepped into his living room and saw his wife setting the table for breakfast, and his son playing next to her. How could he do this to them? They shouldn't pay for his mistakes. He knew killing himself wouldn't achieve anything, because Yakuza would make them pay.

"Oba san, good morning" Kiyoshi crossed him and went to sit at the table. Yoshiro excused himself and went to the bathroom. He splashed some water on himself and thought about what Kazuki had told him that night.

_He had finished bandaging his hand. "You know I think I might have a way out of this for you."_

_"Really? I'll do anything", Yoshiro asked, looking up. _

_"Kiyoshi might be the answer to your troubles."_

_"What do you mean?"_

_"You know Senpai has noticed her...could be your way out."_

_"Trust me Kazuki, if you weren't my brother-in-law and friend, I would shoot you right now", Yoshiro said, anger rising in his voice._

_"Calm down Yoshiro, I was just suggesting a way out. Next time he won't just ask for your hand."_

Yoshiro looked at his face in the bathroom mirror. It showed all signs of fatigue and depression. He wiped his face and stepped out of the bathroom. His wife was standing outside with a concerned look on her face. He just smiled at her.

"Don't worry... it's going to be alright."

Sam sipped his tea and watched as Yoshiro was talking to Kazuki, his brother-in-law. Sam had tipped one of the waiters to report their table´s conversation to him. So far, Sam had figured that Yoshiro was in debt of the Yakuza. Yoshiro owned a small transport company in the southern districts, where the impact of the Yakuza was not very far reaching yet. But the past few months his wife's health was failing and he had neglected the business to take care of her, and thus had run into debt. Kazuki, who seemed to be like some kind of aide to the boss, Nori sempai, was suggesting that maybe he should let the man have Yoshiro's daughter. Yoshiro looked like a very desperate man. He still didn't seem to agree with this idea. He was caught in a classic Yakuza trap. The girl was merely collateral, but what the Yakuza were really interested in was the access that his business offered them. They would use the transport company to peddle their merchandise to the south of the country.

Meanwhile, Nori senpai was an up and comer in the Yakuza ranks. In fact he was being touted to be promoted to Fuku-honbucho - assistant to the second in command. Edogawa was someone who wanted this place really bad... He had hatched this plan to pull down Nori, and put an end to his expansion plans. Obviously, there was a real fight going on for a position like that ... and Edo was a very ambitious man. Sam wondered how Dean fit into this whole scheme ... what position he had reached by now, if he was intent to make his way to the top like Edo. He couldn't really see his brother climbing a hierarchy ladder...but then what did he know about him!

Sam saw that Yoshiro slowly nodded his head and then hung his head disappointedly, as though he had sold his soul to the devil. Kazuki padded his arm and left to make his call.

"Are you American?" Sam had not seen the boy who was now staring at him. He recognized the boy to be Yoshiro's son. _Dammit, why did he bring his son?, _he wondered.

"Check this out" Sam said, taking a flower from a flower pot on the table, and making it disappear between his hands.

"Where is it?" The boy looked utterly bewildered. Sam just raised his hand in mock ignorance. Then he started searching for it, padded his jacket, and produced it from one of its pockets. The boy giggled happily. Sam remembered the first time Dean had shown him this trick, when he was about the boy's age. He was so excited, and begged Dean to teach him the trick.

Yoshiro called out to the boy, and he ran away happily, yelping with the flower in his hands. This is going to be a difficult one, Sam thought to himself. The waiter came over with his bill - under the bill was the address of the hotel where Yoshiro was supposed to meet Nori Senpai.

Yoshiro and Kiyoshi arrived at the Plaza, one of the really sophisticated places in Tokyo. Kiyoshi was all decked up from head to toe. Despite the makeup, the tears´ spots were inevitable. Her father refused to look at her. Her mother had to be taken to the hospital, and her brother was left at her aunt's place, after she´d listened to what Yoshiro had proposed. They came into the restaurant and were shown to their table.

"Honey... I'm so sorry." Before Yoshiro could continue, he saw Kazuki waving at him. Kazuki was getting them drinks and waited at the bar.

"Go fix yourself up" he said to her, and with this, Kiyoshi got up and left for the ladies´ room. The light was dimmed down, one single spot illuminated the stage, and the band began playing. Sam, who was sitting on the table facing Yoshiro, got up, went up to him, pulled his gun with a silencer fixed to it, and just shot him while passing his chair. Yoshiro looked down and saw a red spot appearing on his shirt. Sam began to walk away from him when Yoshiro caught his hand and said "Arigato – thank you".

Sam straightened up and began moving towards the door. He knew the lights would come back once Kazuki reached the table with the drinks - and there would be panic. He walked out the front door, and was just about to head west to reach his car, when he stopped short. A Rolls Royce had pulled up in front of the restaurant, and a man wearing a black fedora hat and a long dark overcoat stepped out. As he looked up, Sam almost gasped. He had green eyes, a chiseled face and full lips.

Dean. Sam was 100% sure it was his brother ... the sole purpose of his visit, heck - the sole purpose he had moved on in his life. At least 10 other Yakuza members wearing similar clothes got out of two other cars around him. A shrill scream brought Sam back into the real world. A man pushed past him and went towards Dean. He whispered something into his ear, and Dean's face changed colors. He seemed to ponder something, got back into the car, and drove off while his men still were outside. Sam hid behind the pillar and left the building at the left side entrance. He walked about a block in a daze until he got to his car. As he was fumbling for his keys, someone pressed something into his back.

"Just drive!" It was a woman's voice...well, more like a girl´s. Sam could feel she was trembling.

"Please ... just drive me."

In the car, Sam sensed that the girl's hands were shaking ... he looked at her in the rearview mirror. She was wearing too much make-up in an attempt to look older. But Sam figured that she was no more than 17 or 18 years of age. She had the look of a deer caught in the headlights on her face. This was an unexpected development in his plan.

"Do you know what happened in there? Why were people screaming?" she asked, her voice shaking with fear.  
>It struck Sam now who this girl was ... she was Yoshiro's daughter. Sam felt a pang of guilt. All these years, whenever he had executed his job, he never had come face to face with the people he had affected by it. And now...Murakami first, and now this innocent girl, caught in mob politics.<p>

"Uh...what are you talking about? I didn't hear anything", Sam said, trying to sound surprised.

Sam thought she looked like a lost kid, and hated what he was about to do. He swerved the car abruptly, and took a sharp right turn. The girl fell onto her side, was actually slammed against the window; Sam stopped the car and checked the back seat. He saw that she had hit her head and passed out. Sam thought of pushing her out of the car ... but then his eyes fell on two men whom he knew from Edo's place. They had come to exchange the cars. Yakuza was cautious that way.

"Mr. Smith, congratulations. We're here to take your car as you had requested."

Sam thought of the girl in the backseat. They would probably kill her ... or worse. It might jeopardize Sam's position. As they came closer, he threw his overcoat over her unconscious form.

He waved at them. "Just go ahead. So far I have not been detected".

"Okay" both said, looking at each other confusedly.

Sam thanked his lucky stars that due to his reputation as 'the quiet and dangerous American', they did not ask any further questions.

"Eh...Smith San, the boss wants to see you tomorrow, at the teahouse in Kabukichō"  
>"I´ll be there", Sam said and sped off.<p>

He began to contemplate his current situation. He could not just put the girl anywhere, since Nori´s – or Dean's ? - men would try to set an example with her, for her father's default on the loan, or even if they did not, then Edo would do it himself in order to create more confusion. He thought of going to Castiel with her ... but then was reminded she was probably marked and it would blow his and Castiel's cover. So he drove on and finally came to his hideout. It was located on a boat; Bobby really knew a lot of people. He pulled the car up a mile away from the place, opened the passenger door and picked up the gun and her purse. He finally pulled her out and put her on one side of his shoulder, walking down the narrow path which allowed only one person to pass at a time. This made controlling enemy movements much easier... Sam entered the house boat. On the outside, it looked very similar to all the others standing next to her, but inside, Sam had managed to set up his office and living quarters. He put the girl on the narrow bedding in a niche next to the window. Removing the coat, he revealed the very young and beautiful, delicate form of Kiyoshi. She had heavy makeup on and wore a lovely red dress that went to her knees, wrapping her lean figure tightly.

She looked peaceful and pure.

Sam turned around and buried his head in his hands, thinking about his day. He could not believe that he'd actually seen Dean ... He remembered that familiar sting in his eyes, the moment when his heart seemed to falter, his breathing stopped. He thought how badly he wanted to go see him properly, hug him tightly. But alas - that would not be happening any time soon, as here they were on the opposite sides of a war they never started, both soldiers for an unknown captain. Soldiers ...no, they were thugs, working to implement anarchy in a world which was trying to rebuild itself from ashes.  
>He heard some rustling behind him and turned around to see that the girl behind him pushed towards the edge of the bed, trying to reach a rod. He jumped on her and caught her hands.<p>

"Let me go, please!", she screamed.

Sam put his hand on her mouth and quieted her. "Shhhh…"

She began to cry and Sam said angrily, "Be quiet!".

She nodded, and he removed his hand from her mouth. Stretching his hand, he switched on the radio and turned up the volume. As soon as Sam got up and released her hand, she screamed again. Sam slapped her hard across the face. She passed out once again. Sam knew he had a problem on his hands.

Castiel could not wait to see Sam, having some very good news for him. He ordered a bottle of sake for himself. Castiel thought about his day in the office after the death of Mr. Simmons at the docks ... there was increased pressure on the US -Japanese relations. The new boss, Mr. Alistair, was one of the people who are practically wedded to their job. Cas was called in, and was chosen to be the main translator for the embassy. In fact he was asked to be the unofficial eyes and ears of the new boss. He was given a box filled with several folders. "These are the files on all the transport companies who are attending."

Alistair came over to him and pulled out one thin folder, giving it to him.

"You know what - forget about the others. This is the guy you need to focus on. He is the big shot. The group is going to follow him like a flock."

Castiel took the folder and opened it. "He's white..." - and in a flash he understood who it was.

"Yeah that remains a mystery even to our intelligence unit, but then so far, that has not stopped him or slowed him down. He´s high up already for so young a man."

Castiel tried to control his excitement over the fact that he might have just found Sam's brother, and merely nodded and left his office. He just sent Sam a quick telegram asking him to meet at a small, quiet hotel two blocks away from his office.  
>Sam was running late, which was odd for him. Castiel looked at his watch again. Then he saw Sam cross the street in the pouring rain. His tall figure was bent under a newspaper. Castiel waved him to the table in a corner seat, well hidden behind a pillar. Castiel was glad he had chosen an American hotel rather than a Japanese teahouse, since Sam always stood out there. He came over and sat down in front of Cas... he wanted to stretch over the table and kiss Sam, but he knew that would more than turn heads here. He saw Sam had a bruise over his lips. "Are you okay?"<p>

Sam looked at him confusedly. Castiel pointed to his own lip.

"Oh that's nothing. What's this information that you had?"

_So business like_, Castiel thought to himself, removing the folder from his leather bag, and placed it in front of him.

Sam smiled at him and opened it. Castiel just saw the expression change from being calm and composed to amazement, and then a glint of sorrow. He regained his composure and looked up at Castiel.

He answered Sam's glance. "He's the delegation leader for the transport and shipping industry negotiations. My new boss wants me to be there as a translator. "  
>"That's just perfect ... you could be..." Sam suddenly went quiet.<p>

"What's the matter?"  
>"Castiel - this is my fight, and it's going to get dangerous from here on. I don't think you should be a part of this. I mean - I would never forgive myself if anything happened to you. I've already lost people I care for" he said, staring into the distance.<p>

"Hmmm... And here I was thinking that you considered me a friend."  
>"Castiel, that's exactly the reason I don't want you to participate in this. I cannot assure you that you might make it till the end"<br>Cas huffed. "Sam, for the first time my life actually means something. I never stood up for Takemi and I lost him. This time it's going to be different. I cannot live with the guilt of losing you too". He stretched his hand over the table, pressing Sam's hand. Sam squeezed back. Castiel saw a bruise on his hand, "I thought everything went smoothly with Yoshiro."  
>"Yes, kind of."<br>"What do you mean? "  
>"Well ... the hit went properly, just as planned, but then when I was just leaving, I ...I saw Dean stepping out of the car."<br>"Oh dear God, did he see you? Does he know about you and Edo?"  
>"Castiel, calm down... He didn't see me, and the fact that I'm still alive shows that he does not know about me, right?"<br>"Oh wow, that must have been emotionally straining for you."

Sam looked down to stop himself from feeling all that confusion and longing again.

Once again Castiel felt like he should reach out and hug Sam, but controlled himself, waiting for Sam to gain control of his feelings again.

"I want you to get close to him, as close as possible. I want to know everything about him, who his bosses are, and just how deep his roots go inside the organization."

Castiel nodded.

He looked at Sam, wondering if Sam was finished talking. "This still does not explain your split lip."

Sam let out a little laugh and said "eh... Let's just say I'm carrying some baggage from the last job with me."  
>Castiel looked at him quizzically "I don't understand."<br>"I have Yoshiro's daughter. She slipped into my car somehow". Castiel's eyes grew big in what was a mix of wonder and fear.

"Sam ...I hope you're not planning to 'dispose' of her. Please. I mean - how old is she? "  
>"Castiel, relax... I do not intend on doing any such thing. Though I'm really wondering where else I can keep her safe."<br>"I can take her off your hands" Castiel said, a little too eagerly. It was funny to Sam seeing Castiel was so worried for this girl unknown to him. Somehow Castiel realized what was going on in Sam's head.

"Sam, don't think that I have some other ulterior motive. It's just that I'm worried for your soul. I just don't want you to lose yourself in this journey through hell. Remember that getting Dean out is only half the plan. You will need to make him your brother again. You will need your soul for it. "  
>Sam was speechless. Since Murakami's death this was the first time that Sam had felt warmth for some other human being.<p>

"Thanks, Castiel. I'll keep that in mind" With this, Sam for the first time stretched over his hand towards Castiel and squeezed his hand.

After their meeting was over, Sam crossed the street. As he was making his way towards his car, another vehicle drove up to him. It stopped right in front of him, and the window rolled down. "Get in", said the driver. Sam smiled a slanted smile, opened the passenger door and got in. When they arrived at the famous Kabukicho district, the car stopped in front of a hotel / parlor.

"Go on, the boss wants to see you. Straight ahead." Sam nodded and went inside. He followed the narrow stairs up, and then turned left, where the tough looking bodyguard let him inside. Unlike his boss, Edo preferred to conduct his business behind closed doors. The room had a very Japanese feel to it. There was a waiting room, heavily wooded with sliding paper doors. Another of Edo's men was posted outside, who informed Sam to wait. A pretty loud discussion was going on. Sam heard the word Junko in the conversation, repeatedly. He looked around to see that the man who'd left the room was now talking to the guard at the door. He moved a little closer to the door. "Takeshi, all you have to do is - get him away from the shrine. He'll need proof he can trust you. I'll handle the rest."  
>There was some rustling and Sam pretended to read a paper outside. "Ah, Vincent Smith San, come in, come in", Edo said, opening his door. "Hey, Kazama, get the sake in and call Suzuki in too." Edo turned to Sam, a cold smile plastered on his face.<br>"That was ...how you people say...excellent, such a clean kill. Nobody even knows where or who you were". Sam merely smiled at this. "There's chaos right now and Amaya, the Big Boss, isn't very happy".

By then, Kazama had brought sake with him with two glasses. He filled the glass with some salt and fish scales and then filled one glass to the brim with wine, while the other was just filled half. Then he placed the full glass in front of Edo and the half filled glass in front of Sam. "Now drink, my friend, but only a little", Edo said, raising his glass. Both drank very small sips from the already small glasses. After this, they exchanged their cups and drank from them once more. As soon as Sam put his glass down, two more men came in and congratulated Sam and Edo.

"Welcome to the Family, Vincent Smith"

After his meeting with Edo, Sam was relieved that his plan was on track. Castiel was going to get close to Dean from the outside while he was inching closer to him through the organization. For the first time in so many years he felt hopeful. Sam looked at his reflection in the shop window as he was passing by. He saw the small scratch on his face and was reminded of the little glitch in his plan, Kiyoshi. He had to do something about her. He was reminded of Castiel's words about his soul. This was going to be much more difficult than he'd thought.

He came back to his boathouse. Kiyoshi was still tied up and fast asleep on the bed, just as he had left her. Sam went over to check on her. He saw that she had a small bruise near her lips. She stirred a little and slowly opened her eyes. She smiled at Sam and then, as her mind slowly gained consciousness, her smile subsided. The fear was back in her eyes. Sam bent over her and she turned her face to the other side. Only then she realized that Sam was opening the ropes on her hands. Sam placed his hand on his lips. She nodded meekly and he removed her gag. He kept the ropes on her legs though. For a moment Sam lingered on top of her and then got up towards the kitchen.

"I've got dinner for you" he said in Japanese.

"Why are you doing this? I don't know anything. I want to go home" Kiyoshi pleaded. "I won't tell anyone about this place" she said, holding Sam's arm as he placed the bowl of noodles in front of her.

"Okay - I'll think about it. Now eat" he said, smiling at her.

Kiyoshi was taken by surprise by this. She began to eat and it was then that she realized how hungry she was. She could not believe that Sam was going to let her go.

"Are you serious?" she asked disbelievingly.

Sam merely nodded and smiled sadly at her. He removed the newspaper and casually put it on the table in front of Kiyoshi. As he turned his back to her he saw her pick it up and read.

"NO!" she screamed. Sam turned around to see Kiyoshi was huddled up in the corner of the bed. "It cannot be true" she said, staring horrified at the newspaper on the bed.

"Unfortunately it's true. I didn't want to tell you last night."  
>"They killed my father... THEY KILLED HIM!", she screamed again.<p>

For the first time in many years Sam saw such a display of grief. Suddenly he remembered that dark snowy night when he had run halfway across the city to the mental asylum. He was dashing through the dimly lit hallway, coming to a halt where some doctors and nurses had gathered outside a room. Some hands held him as he tried to get into the room. He could see the police were inside, taking pictures**.**

Bobby came out and saw Sam. He frowned, his eyes tired and weary.

"Boy, why are you here?"  
>"Is it Dad? Bobby? What happened?"<br>"I'm sorry, kid", Bobby murmured, placing a hand on his shoulder.

Sam pushed Bobby aside and went in. '_I'm sorry_' the wall read, streams of blood flowing down. Sam just stood there, frozen; he looked down at the bloodied body of his father. Officers were scurrying around him picking up samples and clicking pictures of his father's corpse for evidence ... files and pictures they would neatly stash away in an evidence box to never open it again.

His father had lost the battle against Yakuza.

Sam had lost everything.

Everyone.

He was all alone in this world through no fault of his own. An officer came to him and tried pushing him out of the room. Sam jerked his hand off and looked at him with white hot rage blazing in his eyes. The officer backed out and Bobby came in, asking everyone to move out. Soon Sam found himself alone in the room. He dropped to his knees and took his father's lifeless bloody hand in his, staring into his father's empty eyes. He felt something wet streaming down his face and only then realized he was crying. Sam broke down and screamed, biting down on his arm, until Bobby came running back into the room, and took him into his arms, rocking him back and forth, murmuring soothing syllables.

A cup near the bed had crashed down and brought Sam back to reality. Kiyoshi was crying silently. Sam went over to her and wondered for a moment as to what he should do. _What's the right thing to say when your father is dead_? , he wondered. _Nothing... there isn't anything that you can say which will help lessen the pain._ He did what Bobby had done for him, placing a hand on the back of her head, and began stroking her hair. He was gently patting her back when she raised her head from the pillow and looked at him with her tear stained face.

"Was it me?", she asked. „Is it my fault?"  
>"No..." he replied instantly, which surprised himself as well.<p>

She got up and almost crashed on Sam holding him tightly and sobbing violently. At first Sam did not know what to do, but then he just held her close till she quieted down.

The evening shadows were creeping on and Kiyoshi was finally quiet and gone off to sleep on Sam's shoulder. He laid her on the narrow bed next to him. She looked so vulnerable and small... Sam felt a pang of guilt in his heart as he realized that he was the reason she had no father and was trapped in this situation. He knew that now she could not go back to normal ever again - both the Yakuza clan would be searching for her, and her family would never accept her back since she had brought shame on the family. She was tainted, no matter if anyone had touched her or not. _That's the funny thing about people - the facts never matter to them.  
><em>On his way back to the boathouse he had managed to see Kiyoshi's mother who was now living with her uncle and his family. It was the same uncle who had suggested that Kiyoshi should be pimped out in order to buy time for her father to pay off the loan.

Sam picked up the bowl and took it to the sink. He washed it carefully and found himself a small bottle of bourbon, taking a glass out of the cupboard, and poured himself some, putting some ice in it. He took the file that Castiel had given to him and climbed the few steps. Outside, the deck of the boat had a small bulb hanging over a table. The night sky of Tokyo was lighted in the distance... It was unlike New York or Chicago, but it was steadily growing. He looked at the file of Dean in front of him. There was the official part Castiel had talked about... and then there was one more page, reading „confidential" stamped on the top. According to it, Dean was supposedly known as Junko and was heading the Yakuza operations in Kabuicho unit. A handwritten note at the page´s side read „not confirmed, no evidence whatsoever yet". Dean was well educated, even had a business degree, and was known for being a ruthless and sharp business man. He was – supposedly - closely associated to Tatsuya Amaya, head of a conglomerate of companies and businesses in Tokyo.. "Amaya" ... Sam said the name loudly. Why did it sound so familiar? Sam went inside to get his father's diary. He found it and began browsing through the well worn pages. From the corner of his eye he saw that Kiyoshi was no longer in the bed. He got up, and went down the steps inside the boat, pondering the information he'd gotten.

Tatsuya Amaya was the same man that his father had been hunting in Chicago and New York. He was the liaison officer of Yakuza and was working with the main mafia gangs in New York. The opium route from Asia to the US was mostly handled by Yakuza now... and the Japanese also needed a lot of things in exchange for the drugs, mostly arms... A lot of things were contraband by the current government. From the corner of his eye, Sam noticed Kiyoshi standing to his left, looking at the calendar on the wall. She was staring at a color photograph of a Japanese woman in some modern dress. Sam realized she was wearing one of his sweaters, way too large for her tiny frame.

"Sanja Matsuri has already started….have you seen the festival yet?", she asked, still looking at the picture.

"No…I´ll go see the main procession though", Sam answered. She realized that Sam was staring at her and lowered her head."Sorry… is it okay if I wear your sweater? That dress was too tight, and too…too…"  
>"I understand", Sam smiled at her, and she blushed, looking down at her feet. Sam realized that she was not wearing make-up anymore. She had beautiful almond shaped eyes and a tiny nose .. her lips were really pink. She looked much younger, and Sam felt a pit growing in his stomach. What had he done in his pursuit for revenge? He had endangered this girl's life. He sighed inwardly.<p>

"You should get some sleep", he said to her in a harsh tone.


	8. Chapter 8

Castiel was nervous. Not that anybody who didn'tknow him very well would have noticed. Actually, nobody did, as he hadn´t got any friends worth speaking of... he was the reserved, slightly odd translator/ cultural expert, reliable, loyal and thorough, but socially awkward. The feminine staff, ambassy and delegations alike, sometimes fell into raptures about his blue eyes, the unruly black hair; and the ladies liked his earnest, almost overly polite way of talking to them. On the other hand, he had never – never! – made any move of encouragement, not even the slightest hint of interest had ever been noticed; soon enough, they came to the conclusion that Castieltiel Novak was a weirdo – nice and cute, but still a weirdo.

Castieltiel was OK with that. It meant that he usually was left alone and had his peace.

It also meant that he was lonely.

He was used to it of course...ever since Takemi had left his life. Castiel hadn´t found a friend like him any more – someone he felt deeply connected to, a true soul mate. And being gay, and not making compromises for appearances, he lived pretty celibate. Had lived. Until Sam burst into his life, this absolutely unique mixture of innocence, experience, danger, scary focus, and a hidden kindness despite the murderous character of his profession. And there was the sex, of course. Sam was a force of nature, and Castieltiel was sore practically everywhere from their untamed, wild, violent encounters.

He hadn´t heard from Sam since the day of the shipment, and Simmon´s death. They'dagreed on keeping contacts to an absolute minimum; each one had his task to fulfil, and once that was done, they would have plenty of time to make up for lost opportunities. Castiel wasn´t kidding himself – there was nothing like love, or `relationship´, involved. But the sex was mind blowing, and he liked Sam. As a friend. He already missed the tall man.

"We´re ready, Castieltiel...let´s get this show on the road!"

His new boss, Alistair McGee, who had happily stepped into Simmon´s place after the desaster at the port. Of course, Castieltiel had been checked, and double checked, by two secret service men – lie detector and everything (like everyone else at the ambassy). Simmons had been his boss after all, for over two years...and as the translator, he´d been present at all the negotiations, even the pre-talks and inofficial meetings. Well – they didn'tfind anything on him, naturally. First, Castieltiel hadn´t known anything about Simmon´s dark side (until recently, that is); and second, he could easily overrun the lie detector by thinking of his last, rather rough, sex with Sam, accelerating his heartbeat and pulse permanently that way - even if it made him blush and sweat violently during the procedure...but the man operating the machine put it on his general nervousness and excitement. He didn'tsee, didn'tfeel what Castiel saw and felt: Sam´s gorgeous body, bound hands fixed to Castiel´ wall, eyes covered with one of his ties, begging...begging for Castiel to give him more, more, MORE...his back in front of Castiel, covered in sweat, muscles playing when shivers of pleasure ran through the man´s body...and his ass, perfect, firm, sticking out for Castiel, waiting for him, waiting to be taken, conquered, possessed...Castiel almost had an orgasm just thinking of it, and it cost him to hold things together.

It had worked, though. He was cleared of what little suspicion there was; and re-instated as general translator for the negotiations. They were getting to the big players now...hence it was crucial that Castiel be part of the game, if they wanted to make Sam´s plan pay off.

He got up, nodded at Alistair, and followed him down the long corridor.

Showtime.

They'dsit with the biggest transport and trading companies today. The branch most infiltrated by Yakuza, and most crucial to them.

And the man who´d lead the negotiations for them – unknown of course by the US delegation, who only saw the squeaky clean covers Yakuza had for their employees – was the reason for Castiel´nervousness.

His name: Dean Winchester.

Being the translator to important political or economical negotiatons had a huge upside as far as Castieltiel was concerned: it made you the invisible third.

The translator was like a machine, doing his job, being there, but not seen as a person with distinguishable characteristics. Just like the secretaries who frantically scribbled on their notepads in shorthand, or typed into the writing machines. They were the little brownies, elves busying themselves with all the work unseen by the public. And by their own bosses, most times. It was exactly what Castieltiel wanted.

And now, it was also exactly what he needed.

The room was pretty crowded, they had delegations of the five biggest transport businesses present, each with their own entourage of course...and the American delegation alone consisted of 7 people.

Alistair turned to Castieltiel, waving him closer over the heads of his assistants.

Castieltiel elbowed his way through the suits in front of him.

His new boss bowed down conspiratorially.

"I want you to be extremely alert, Novak. I´ve heard the Kuro Tora company´s up to something...they are the biggest fish in the pond, we have to be cautious. I want you to try and get what they are talking among themselves...take notes if you must. Their chief negotiator is a born American, so you´ll not have to translate his parts. Gives you time."

Castieltiel nodded. Perfect.

Kuro Tora – the Black Tiger. Or: the long arm of Yakuza, right in front of their noses.

Castieltiel took his seat in the second row, between McGee and the ambassador. It gave him a perfect view on the room without being seen himself. He scanned the long table...everyone was still standing, waiting for McGee to start. After the obligatory polite bowing, they went into the details pretty fast. Castieltiel had barely a second to roll his shoulders or stretch his back.

He stole furtive glances to the Kuro Tora´s delegation now and then. While every delegation had already presented their statement, the chief negotiator of the most influencial group had not opened his mouth so far; Castiel had seen him listen, and watch, with an intensity and focus that was almost scary. Nothing escaped this man. Dean Winchester was as driven as his brother, in his own way...

As busy as Castiel was, he couldn´t help watching the man. It was as if his eyes were pulled to him against their will, a secret force made him return to the face to his left time and again...

That face. Downright beautiful, even with the long scar running down the front. Full lips that got his imagination going in directions...his light brown hair was rather short, unusually so, and Castiel felt the urge to bury his hands in it, grab the man´s head, and pull it back, far back, and kiss those lips, bite his way down that throat...

It was the kind of face that made people turn; and tricked them into underestimating the man behind it.

But then, there were the eyes.

Castieltiel shifted on his chair. Sam was looking for the big brother he´d adored.

But who could tell who – what... they had in front of them here...

If the brother is gone...if there is no Dean left ... then God help us, Castiel thought.

They were well into the discussion already, when Dean Winchester, chief negotiator of Kuro Tora Trade and Transport Ltd., finally chose to speak. Castieltiel could tell his boss McGee became increasingly irritated by the man´s silence; even the other Japanese companies´ leaders seemed to feel uncomfortabe with it. Maybe it was this growing tension, maybe the man´s natural authority (or, rather, the subliminal dangerousness he oozed), maybe just the knowledge that his company represented more power than the other four put together, even in the official version – Castiel wasn´t sure; but Dean raised his hand, got up, and bowed, as was requested by Japanese etichette – and the room went absolutely silent.

The voice...

Dark, Castieltiel thought. A dark voice...blue, almost black. Midnight blue...with a few silvery sparks in it...very few. He had no idea where this picture came from, he had never thought about voices that way; he heard Dean say the first polite phrases – in Japanese - ...and there it was. Together with goosebumps running down from his neck to his toes. Castiel stared at the man from the safety of his half hidden place. Sam came to his mind, unvoluntarily...the way he seemed to vibrate with vitality, a physical, sexual power invading his surroundings...Dean had that power, too – but a completely different version. His was controlled to an extent it was ...scary. Sam, of course, was perfectly in control of his body, too (well – Castiel had seen him lose it, of course, but willingly, and enjoying an extasy so deep it made you wonder how he managed to ever come back from it). But Dean...Dean seemed... he was a bomb ready to explode if you pressed the right button.

He doesn´t even seem human, Castiel thought. And he had to admit...it scared him.

Castiel listened, watched, translated, made notes. For hours...until his head was spinning. They had had their short breaks, and one longer one for lunch; but as he was needed as a translator there, too, he didn't have time to actually relax. All the time, the magnetic force of Dean Winchester kept pulling, teasing... it was starting to annoy him, but he couldn't stop – he found himself analyzing the man´s voice, his body language (as far as there WAS any), the smallest changes in his facial expression. He noticed, after more than three hours, that there was one thing that gave emotions away. Of course, it was the eyes. Those mossy green eyes, so cool, and inscrutable...unreadable: On occasion, they grew darker, as if a cloud was covering the sun, taking away the color. Sometimes he saw a dimple show for a second, in an unusual place, right above the corners of his mouth...in a poker game, this would be crucial information, Castiel thought. If I could tell what it stood for: anger? Tension? Satisfaction? Excitement? But then...this IS a poker game. And we are playing for a lot of chips here.

It was shortly after lunch break when he got a glimpse of the person hidden behind the scary perfection. Discussion got a little heated – for Japanese measures -, and Castiel only just managed to translate everything that was said, when Dean got up again. The few people still talking at that moment were met by a stare that probably burnt their souls away. Castiel shivered. Had it become cold in the room all of a sudden?

Then Winchester talked, calmly, reasonably, making a few propositions, giving the US side credit, but not pulling back in any matter of importance. He had the whole room nodding within minutes...How does he do it? Castiel asked himself. He´s good...really good. Scarily good.

He bowed slightly to the left so he could see Dean better; and yes, the man seemed made for situations like this one, sure of himself, elegant, clear and polite in his words. _Damn beautiful, dangerous and sexy, _Castiel added, studying the face, and in this moment, Dean turned his head, and met his eyes.

For a second, they both froze. Castiel blushed furiously... he saw a brief flash lighten the cool eyes, a glimpse of springy green...and then, interest. He felt the eyes scan his face for the shortest instant, and took in the appreciative widening of Dean´s pupils...want. There was want, predatory and needy at the same time, and... a kind of regretful sadness...and it confused Castiel, because it didn't fit well with the rest of the man, or his performance in this room so far.

All of it happened within an instant, and no one else seemed to have noticed...

Dean slipped back into his previous mode, and the moment was gone.

"And who might you be ... the US delegation´s translator, I guess?"

Castiel turned, and stared into a pair of green eyes. Dangerous eyes...but this time, dangerous in a different sense. He gulped.

"y- yes?"

The green eyes darted back and forth in between his own for a moment; and Castiel was struck by the fact how changed they seemed just for this instant: gone were the self-confidence, the coldness, the lack of emotion. Oh, he could see emotion in them now – a second of longing, and insecurity, and confusion. So much confusion.

For one second.

"Dean Winchester. I'm here for the Kuro Tora Company." Castiel needed a few seconds to realize the other man had his hand stretched out in front of him. What he'd seen...it was wiped away by the polite, cool mask again. Well, with a hint of amusement mixed into it.

"C- Castiel Novak...I'm the translator.."

"I figured..."

Dean smiled at him, and there was a spark of warmth in the cool eyes. He´s still in there, Castiel thought. Dean...Sam´s Dean. He´s still alive deep down in this ...scary Yakuza version.

He smiled back.

Confusion...and surprise. He saw it again. And it made him hope.

Somebody wanted to talk to Dean, and he excused himself politely; and then, the break was over, and they sat in the crowded room again. He didn't look at Castiel again; and Castiel found that it hurt to be ignored.

What did you expect, he asked himself. Soulful glances? He is Yakuza´s new prince. A dangerous criminal – if not now, then soon enough. A wheel in their well oiled machine...

He´s been put through Yakuza´s mill for years. Who knows how deep the old Dean is buried in there...

When McGee declared the negotiations closed, everyone bowed again; Castiel stole a glance at Dean´s lean, elegant figure. Straightening up again, he suddenly found the green eyes on him once more... and there it was ...again...the frozen moment. Everyone, everything seemed to fade into the background...vanish...time – time had ceased to exist, and there was nothing, nothing left, no sound but the beating of his heart. tadamm...tadamm...tadamm...

Save me, the green eyes said.

There were voices, and chairs scratching over the wooden floor. Sound and smells and movement all around. Somebody padded his shoulder, people said goodnight and good bye...

Castiel just stood there, dazed, a figure watching a scene in a dream. Watched the only other man in the room turn and leave, encircled by his Japanese delegation. Saw him vanish through the door.

"Novak? Castiel? Come on, we're done here."

Alistair´s frowning face appeared in front of his eyes.

"Are you alright? You need some fresh air, Novak. It has been a hell of a day."

Castiel shook his head to shy away the weird feeling. Then he nodded slowly.

"Yes...yes. I'm coming."


	9. Chapter 9

"Sam?"

Castiel knew someone was in his flat the moment he opened the door. He couldn't even tell how...since Sam had come into his life, he had developed a few skills...senses...or maybe just a good deal of paranoia.

"I'mhere, Cas."

He saw the dark silhouette against the night sky. Cas closed the door, but didn't turn on the light. Instead, he went over to the window in the dark, and leant his head against Sam's broad back. The long day seemed to weigh on him all of a sudden...he took in Sam's scent, listened to his soft breathing. When he wrapped his arms around the slim waist, he felt Sam lean against him. Cas closed his eyes. Maybe this is enough, he thought. Maybe I shouldn't trust what I felt inside the conference room today...maybe, it is hubris to ask for... more as I already have. Let the fire get close to your heart, and it can easily burn you...

"Did you see him?"

Cas sighed. Oh, yes. _It´s difficult not to see your brother, Sam...not when he seems to have put a magic spell on me..._

"I saw him. I even – I spoke to him."

"You did?" Sam turned in Castiel's arms. He held Castiel at length, and stared into his face in the darkness. "And?"

Cas heard the suppressed emotion in Sam's voice, the excitement, the fear.

Of course, he could tell Sam about how Dean had guided the negotiations exactly where Yakuza wanted them. How he had shown interest in Castiel, how this would be in favor of their plans...how he looked like ... some ancient god...

But Cas knew what it was Sam was really asking.

Sam's eyes were only a faint reflection in the dark. Cas thought of Dean´s eyes. So cool...cold, even. And then the seconds when they weren´t.

"I think we can still save him", he said quietly.

He heard, and felt, the sigh go through Sam's body, shaky, revealing a relief that only showed how much Sam had feared the answer. He pulled Cas close, hugged him, and they stood like that for a minute...then Cas started to feel restless. Pictures of Dean ghosted through his mind, lips, cheekbones, his hands, their controlled movements. The way he looked when he bowed to the people in the room – humble, and yet so full of power. Eyes...eyes...

His fingers were in Sam's hair the next moment, pulling his head down rather forcefully. He pressed his lips on Sam´s, hard, bit his lower lip, sucked it in. Sam hesitated for an instant...then his hands grabbed for Castiel's head, and with a swift move, he turned them both and pressed Cas against the window. Cool glass...hot, shaky hands, burning lips, teeth scratching and biting and ...hurting. He heard Sam's deep moan when he bit his throat, hard...it would leave a mark, a distinct one, and another, Cas felt like he had to...leave something behind, to see traces of himself on Sam, evidence that this was something that had happened for real...Sam had pulled off Castiel's coat, his jacket, his hands were under his shirt already, searching, grabbing, and Cas shoved his own hands under the other man´s belt, impatiently, there was no time, he needed this now, NOW, he wasn't sure why it was so important, something real, someone real, a body he could – no, not love, take, and let himself be taken by, no spell but that of seductive skin, and muscle, and scent, now, he needed it now, the eyes, they were in his head, green eyes, they wanted more, more, maybe too much...he pulled down Sam's trousers, grabbed his ass, and pressed his groin against him, moved, rubbed, he heard him moan, then Sam took over again, they turned, a violent dance, on the bed, both of them, struggling with their trousers, stomping, shaking them off. Sam was on top, grabbing Castiel's hands tight, pressing him into the mattress, he moved his hips, Cas felt his already hard cock slide along Sam´s, hard too, he arched his back against the friction, so good, good, but he needed more, the eyes were still there, asking, begging, and wanting, so cold, and then not cool any more, burning, they were burning, he was burning, Sam'sskin was fire on his, and yes, it was good, it burned away what he feared, Sam was panting over him, searing hot skin, burning away his fear, and then Sam let go of his hands, finally, and grabbed his legs, shoved them apart, yes, Cas spread them wide, _take me, take me now,_ _mark me, make this real, burn the fear to ashes_, he felt Sam's cock at his hole, and he moaned, desperate, needy, "Now, Sam, now..please, now...Sam!" Pain, pain filled him, there was no preparation, and good, it was good, he wanted the pain, needed it, it wiped the fear away, the doubt...he arched, muscles taught, whole body tense, a bow drawn and ready, and now Sam started to thrust, finally, finally, and Cas moved his hips against him, violent jolts, against the pain, until it was bearable, and there was only ... pleasure, pain, pleasure, pain, hard thrusts, harder, deeper, no eyes, only this, skin and muscle and sweat, their moving bodies, moving, moving, moving, Cas had his legs wrapped around Sam now, deeper, he needed more, he felt Sam's body jerk already, shake and tremble with the force of his thrusts, and then Sam grabbed his legs, pressed his knees down on the mattress, above his shoulders, Cas could hardly breathe, but _yes, yes, more, this deep,_ _more_, Sam jerked and pushed and thrust into him, without mercy, without hesitation, on, and on, and on – and then the world exploded, eyes and ears and mouth and whole body, just white blinding light and deafening sound.

Sam fell off Castiel's folded body, panting so hard it sounded painful. Cas was shaking, he straightened his legs, stiff and clumsy, trembling. They lay like that, staring at the dark ceiling, barely touching, gasping for air, panting, then breathing. The scent of sweat and bodies and sex was so heavy, Cas felt it like something physical on his skin...he closed his eyes, and listened to Sam, felt his warm skin where their arms touched, smelled his scent. Still felt him inside, his gorgeous cock riding him, spreading him, touching the one point again and again, the hot, searing point inside Cas...

And Cas knew, he was sure all of a sudden, that he would never feel him like that again.

"And Edogawa was willing to take you in? Just like that?"

Sam huffed. "Just like that? I saved his life."

"True...and you proved to be loyal, smart, ruthless, and ambitious...I get what he sees in you." Cas half smiled.

Sam huffed again, and rubbed his eyes. "Yeah...I should feel honored..." He sounded subdued.

"He´s your ticket to Dean, and right to Yakuza´s center, Sam. Your Trojan Horse. In fact, you couldn't have found a better mentor. Edogawa seems to be one of the men competing for a step up in hierarchy. He'll need someone loyal."

Sam nodded. He sat on the bed, elbows on his knees, chin in his hands. Cas leant against the wall, legs crossed.

"You think..." Sam hesitated. "You think we have a chance? A realistic chance to get Dean out and...make them pay?" Something´s gotten to him, Cas thought. He´s different. Heck, I'm different.

"Sam? What´s wrong?"

Sam sighed, and shook his head; he slid back on the bed until he sat at Castiel's side. He picked at a thread on his trousers, looking much younger all of a sudden.

"This girl...the girl I told you about? Kiyoshi?"

Cas looked over at him. "Yes? The one you saved although she held a gun to your back?"

Sam smiled. "Yeah...she did that."

"What about her?"

"She...I don´t know. She is...special. Unusual. Different. Dammit, I don't know. She´s just – she´s ...good. You know? Clean..."

"Innocent?"

"Yes...but not only in...you know. I dunno, but her – her soul...she´s... pure."

Cas watched Sam carefully. The tall man, killer for hire, bit his lower lip. Face full of...doubt. Remorse. Confusion. _How can we get through this totally crazy plan if we are_ _all so...confused_?, Cas asked himself. Because that was what he himself felt, and what he'd seen in Dean´s eyes, and in Sam´s: confusion.

Sam looked up, and met Castiel's eyes. "When I'm with her, it´s like – like she´s purifying me. On one hand, compared to her, I feel dirty and...doomed, but...she has a light to her that seems to fill me, too, and pushes the darkness back." He shook his head again, and shoved his hand through his hair. "I know it sounds crazy...but I want to be someone else with her."

"No...it doesn´t. Sound crazy, I mean."

Sam looked at him surprised. Cas smiled faintly.

"Whatever she needs you to be, you want to be", he said, voice rough.

"Yes!", Sam answered, frowning, and again, pensively, "yes..."

Green eyes, Cas thought. Whatever they asked me to be...whatever Dean needs from me.

I want to be the answer.


	10. Chapter 10

Castiel scanned the large room. The delegations had taken the same places as the day before; the negotiations and discussions went on just like they had...he listened, translated, listened again. And watched.

He'd positioned his chair so he could check out Dean Winchester easily, without being noticed doing so, especially by Dean himself; and while his mind was turning Japanese into English – and vice versa – practically on autopilot, his eyes searched the beautiful face, the hands, shoulders, even the feet under the table ... for what exactly, he wasn't sure himself. Time flew, and finally it was time for lunch break. Castiel had scribbled down a few notes for McGee and was checking them, and putting an order to them, while everyone was already leaving; when he straightened up with a sigh, he realized he was alone in the room. He rubbed his eyes. Hopefully, they´d get most of the points off the list today, so they could finish tomorrow...but then, this would mean...he didn't want to think about it. He packed his notepad, took his coat, and left the room; the building was unusually quiet. Obviously, everybody was glad to get out into the fresh air. It had rained in the early morning when he'd come in; now, a pale spring sun slanted in through the windows, bright stripes parting the long corridor. He hurried down the stairs, wondering if he couldn't just skip lunch (and more translating) and go for a walk, as it was such a nice day outside... but of course, that wouldn't be possible. He was needed there.

With a sigh, he turned the corner to the toilets. Well, at least HE would be at the restaurant, too, Castiel thought, splashing cold water on his face, rubbing his tired eyes. Watching Dean Winchester was rapidly turning into an obsession... he straightened up, dried his face, eyes closed, and opened them to look into the mirror.

And gasped.

Someone was leaning against the wall, watching him.

Dean Winchester.

They stared into each other´s eyes...mossy green and dark blue.

Castiel could hear a watch tick, probably Dean´s wristwatch... tak...tak...tak...tak...

Then Dean pushed himself from the wall, and took a few steps forward. He stood very close now, Castiel could feel the other body´s warmth. Their eyes hadn´t broken contact for a second, they were like forced by a spell ...Castiel heard Dean´s breathing, a little accelerated, and it turned him on in a way...then he saw Dean raise his hand, reach out as if he wanted to touch Castiel´ arm, or shoulder... he shivered. If – when he touches me, I might explode, or melt down, or just – just give in completely, Castiel thought. But the touch didn't come. Dean´s hand hovered over Castiel's arm...wandered up, to his shoulder, never touching, further up, followed the curve of Castiel´ throat, Castiel saw Dean's hand was shaking, goosebumps ran down his back, his arms; the hand reached his cheek...or, the air above it, caressing, exploring the lines of Castiel´ face, his cheekbones, temples, almost, almost touching his hair, Dean´s breathing was ragged now, heat, Castiel could feel the heat the hand gave off, the face behind him, the whole body, _touch me, touch_ _me please...please_!, he thought, begging the green eyes, and he saw they were struggling...struggling so hard...so much want in them, pure and raw, and something else again, a plea... the fingertips closed in on Castiel´skin, right above his eyebrow, closer...he could already feel them, feel them without being touched, Castiel realized he was trembling, and didn't care, he wanted this touch, wanted, wanted, wanted, this touch and so much more...and then, a shiver ran through the other man, and Castiel saw the flash of fear in the green eyes, the remorse, something like...repulsion? And then...hopelessness, and Dean´s hand twitched, and he pulled it back...down...stared at Castiel for another second, turned abruptly, and strode to the door. Castiel stared at the broad back, Dean had stopped at the door, hand at the doorframe already, _He is waiting for the other Dean to kick in, the cold eyed smartass businessman_, Castiel thought_,_ and suddenly it made him sick, an unexpected anger flooded his body, hot and searing...and he turned too, and was at the door the next moment, grabbing Dean´s shoulder.

He was slammed against the wall so fast he hadn't even seen Dean move, an arm was pressed against his throat, whole body blocked by the other man´s, a hand grabbed his hair and pushed his head back against the wall painfully, he couldn't breathe, couldn't move, and the eyes, the green eyes were cold, cold and murderous and without mercy for a second, staring him down, and Castiel froze, fear washing over him, cold panic, he needed air, and suddenly the pressure was gone, and hands grabbed his face instead, shaky fingers digging into his hair painfully, and Dean was close, so close, lips hovering over Castiel's, they were both panting, Castiel still gasping for air, but so was Dean, like two drowning, suffocating people, battling for air, both shaking, Castiel felt the huffs of Dean´s breath on his lips, hot, desperate, he was desperate, his eyes were, needy and desperate and ...hopeless.

_Kiss me...please, kiss me...let me save you, Dean._

But then the hands were gone, the face was gone, the heat, cause with a jolt, Dean tore himself from Castiel, stared at him, mortified... he turned, and strode out of the bathroom, Castiel heard his steps on the stone floor fade away, and he was gone.

Castiel stood there, frozen, for a few seconds, legs trembling...then he glided down along the wall until he crouched on the floor, still shaking, the pressure of Dean´s fingers still perceptible on his skin, like the echo of a dark violent dream.

McGee shot him a slightly annoyed look when the delegations were filing into the room again.

"Where've you been? I don't like sitting at a table and depending on the mercy of some Japanese translator I don´t trust... are you OK?" He frowned down at Castiel, who was shifting around his papers nervously.

Castiel looked up. "Yeah, I –sorry, I wasn't feeling well, I – sorry."

McGee padded his shoulder in a fatherly fashion. "It'sOK, son ... tough days in here, I know." He sighed. "And I guess we'll have to go on for the whole day tomorrow, too..maybe even longer. Trade companies are a bitch...by the way, I´d like to talk to you this evening after we're finished here ...about what I told you yesterday?" He raised his eyebrows questioningly. Castiel nodded. "Of course..."

McGee nodded too. "Let´s meet...across the street, the Tea House? I'll have to wrap things up with the ambassador and Washington first, but that won't take more than half an hour."

"I'll be there."

It was torture. Castiel hid behind the backs in front of him, not looking up, talking, listening, taking a few notes. When Dean spoke for the first time after...after lunch break, he involuntarily raised his head, and looked at him: He was pale, maybe even more controlled than usual, completely cool and ... like covered by some invisible coating, protected by a power field scaring everything, everyone away by its sheer existence. He didn't look over, Castiel couldn't help checking now, didn't show the slightest sign he´d ever spoken to Castiel, had even noticed his existence.

Castiel´ spirits sank.

Maybe we are deluding ourselves, he thought.

Maybe the only way bringing Yakuza down is by sacrificing everything ... and everyone.

And what´s the point in destroying the monster if you can't save the victim...

_There are more victims than the one you are interested in_, a small voice in his head whispered. _There are more lives endangered, many many more, and many more good people will be turned into... the monster´s teeth and claws. Don´t you forget that, Castiel Novak._

He knew, of course. There was a greater good involved.

But it was so much harder to see it when the one man you wanted to save ...the one you´d come for in the first place... was swallowed by the monster before you could reach him...and you knew he'd be blown up together with it.

"Come in."

Dean stepped into the large room, nodding briefly to the man holding open the door.

He stopped at exactly the right distance, and bowed deeply.

"Oba san..."

He saw the flick of the finger in the corner of his eye, and slowly straightened up.

Cool eyes viewed him. Katsuo Amaya had his chin resting on his folded fingers, slender figure relaxed and full of a hidden physical force at the same time.

"Junko."

Dean bowed again, and waited. It was a special honor to be ordered to the Oyabun, the family boss; in case of failure, the execution of any punishment would be followed through without any warning, so being summoned to the office at headquarters was a sign of improvement in itself. He stared at the floor, feeling Amaya´s eyes on him.

"Tell me about the negotiations", the other man finally said, in English, a slight British accent audible.

Dean cringed inwardly, but didn't bat an eyelid. He gave a short, clear summary of the way things stood at the moment. Of course, his boss was already well informed about every detail... this was something else. This was a father summoning his child to give a subtle warning. He kept staring at the floor when he had finished. A minute passed, another.

"I understand the Americans employ a translator who is present at all the meetings."

Dean´s fingers twitched before he could control them.

"Yes, Oba san." His voice sounded rougher then before.

Silence again.

"Junko."

The voice was soft, and Dean´s stomach clenched, because it was way more dangerous that way. He looked up. A painful tension filled his body, every fibre of it.

"I want you to approach him. He plays a crucial role in this, and is but a tiny fish unseen by the big ones."

Dean bowed again. Amaya didn't have to say more; Dean knew exactly what was hidden in this one short request. _I know what happened in that toilet, son. You will not do anything like that again without my approval. Your punishment will be to be forced to do what you tried without it. And you'll go through with it, no matter the consequences._

"As long as he is useful to the family, you will get all the information he has. The tiny fish will bring us the whole swarm."

Amaya´s cool eyes still rested on Dean, unwavering, pensively, his posture elegant and calm. His voice was infinitely soft when he spoke again.

"And we will feed on them all."

Castiel had been turning the tiny tea cup in his hands for half an hour already when Alistair McGee finally entered the small room inside the Tea House. His few notes were re-written and neatly ordered, waiting to be explained.

"Sorry, Castiel...the Department of Commerce is getting a little impatient..as far as they're concerned, we're behind schedule, and the big players are nervous...so."

He sat down on the floor, grimacing, and ordered tea and a snack.

"Did you get anything interesting out of their conversations?"

Castiel shoved the few pages over to Alastair. He shrugged. "Not really... they are too smart to discuss anything important in public, and too controlled to let anything slip involuntarily."

McGee nodded. "I see... I must say, this Winchester boy gives me the creeps. How old is he, 25? 26? A cold fish if I ever saw one ... did you notice how his mood seemed down at south pole temperature this afternoon? I bet his boss gave him hell during lunch time, as he wasn't at the restaurant...although I wouldn´t know why, the damn sly fox has us at the short and curlies already." He shook his head. "Never have been taken to the cleaners by anyone like that before ... I wonder how the guy ended up playing for the Japanese team. We could use him well on our side."

Castiel stirred uncomfortably, and sipped his tea to hide the blush he felt on his cheeks.

McGee scratched his chin. "Maybe we could turn him? Address his patriotic feelings?"

Castiel looked up.

"He´s part of a company here. That´s similar to being a family member. Leaving is – it's usually not an option, not if you follow the Japanese code of honor. It would be a disgrace for him and for the company."

McGee huffed. "I have to admit...I'll never get these Japanese ...rules. On the one hand, they have this ancient samurai stuff, and on the other hand, they seem to have no – no recognizable principles. No ethics, or...morals you can count on. One day they decide this, the other they seem to take a totally different path. It´s...frustrating."

Castiel smiled. Common western mistake, he thought.

"They decide following policies, not principles", he said. "Everything should be done in a kind of stylized way ... not following our high-minded concepts of basic truths. And they do have ethics, very strong ones at that. They only don't always go alongside ours."

McGee eyed him a little sceptically. "If you say so...I guess that´s way too slippery philosophical ground for me. Anyway..." He sipped his tea.

"I'm still convinced we should try to get some extra information before the final signing...and as the Department of Commerce is already kicking my ass, I guess we'll push things and it won´t be far." He studied Castiel for a moment. "I want you to try and get into contact with one of their delegation. Winchester would be the best choice, but after his scary performance today I can't possibly ask you to go near this guy. Try to find out as much as you can. I know it's probably wasted time and effort, but...it is our best shot."

Castiel stared at his boss pretty shocked.

"You – you mean I - I should ... what exactly are you suggesting here?"

McGee looked up from his plate. He looked confused. "What? Well, just – oh." Castiel watched a burning blush creep up the man´s cheeks. "Oh, no, no, it's not – you can't possibly think I – this is a misunderstanding. I never would – Christ, this is awkward."

Castiel rubbed his front. His face felt uncomfortably hot.

"I...er...sorry. I – I shouldn't... sorry."

Alistair shook his head. "No, it's my fault. Now I come to think about it, the way I put it you were bound to take it that way. I – I apologize." He rubbed the back of his head. "Of course I'd never ask you to do anything...indecent. Just...just try to talk..chat..or listen, eavesdrop, whatever!"

Castiel frowned. "But, wouldn't you get the information you need from the Secret Service? The city must crawl of them. This treaty is a milestone..."

McGee shrugged. "They sure have their people here, but Japanese companies seem an impenetrable fortress. And the CIA is...it's complicated. Honestly, I'd rather have someone close to us try their luck..."

Castiel was far from convinced all of this made any sense, and that his efforts should be more useful than those of the professional, trained spies. And the irony in McGees´request, after what had happened in the mens´ room this afternoon, was a whole different story.

He sighed.

"I'll try...but I can't promise anything. In fact, I don't think it will be of any use."

"Ok by me", Alistair said. "And, Castiel – thank you."

As soon as the door had closed behind Dean, Amaya pressed the little button on his desk.

"Hairu – come in."

A narrow door almost hidden between two simple cupboards opened, and a slender man walked into the room. He bowed, and straightened up again.

"You heard it?", Amaya asked in clipped tones.

The man nodded. "Yes, Oba san."

Amaya looked at his intertwined fingers on the desk´s surface.

"Keep an eye on him. The little translator as well. When we've milked him ...you know what to do."

The other man nodded again, and bowed. Then he carefully asked, "And...Junko?"

Amaya didn't answer. He watched his own hands for a while, then he looked up, directly into the man´s eyes.

"We'll see", he said.


	11. Chapter 11

The tiny flat seemed different when Castiel finally came home. Empty. Soulless. Castiel put his briefcase on the low table, slipped out of his trench coat, and fell into the stuffed chair. He was exhausted... physically, and emotionally. He closed his eyes, but it was no good, the movie started in his head the moment it went dark...his own private torture movie, now in the theaters! For free!

He bent forward and buried his head in his hands, rubbed his eyes tiredly. _I have to wipe_ _out those green eyes, now, or I´ll go crazy_, he thought, but of course, it was useless, the pictures kept coming, green eyes, a hand hoovering over his cheek, the longing and confusion in Dean´s look, soft and helpless...and the cold blooded killer a moment later, scary, and yet... Castiel´ face grew hot. Being pressed against the wall like that – hard, painful, and barely able to breathe...those murderous eyes on him, ready to kill, almost... it had turned him on, even while he was gasping for air, struggling to survive, he knew damn well he'd gotten a hard-on, and he knew Dean had felt it, too... his kiss...

He groaned, desperately.

_How am I supposed to help Sam if I´m a total mess? If I can´t even look Dean in the eye...how am I supposed to play my role in this game? It´s complicated enough as it is...and dangerous enough to get us all killed._

Which, if he looked at it realistically, was the thing most likely to happen, anyway.

And now McGee´s request, on top of it all. Christ in Heaven, at least the good man had noticed something was wrong after lunch, and hadn't asked him to make Dean the target of his ... efforts. Castiel was still not fully convinced that McGee hadn't put his request exactly the way he'd understood it on purpose...ambiguously. Open to his imagination. Castiel huffed, and it sounded bitter.

Yeah, well, send the small unimportant translator to bed with the leader of the opposite team, he'll sure bring home a few secrets...isn't that what luxury whores are hired for? Except that he, Castiel, would do it for free, of course, being an honorable member of the US embassy/Chamber of Commerce, and naturally, he'd -

Stop whining, and stop kidding yourself, he reprimanded himself. You can have your little fantasies about whoring yourself out to a certain green eyed monster for the good of a country you don´t even hold dear...violent, dark fantasies, and yes, in his mind, he'd even seen the whole Kuro Tora delegation standing around them and watching while Dean was tying him to the bedposts of an immense four poster bed in some huge, dark room, still watching him lick Castiel´nipples and stomach and bite his lips and grab his hair brutally and smash him into the mattress, watching with weird black eyes, cold and greedy and full of want, but he was Dean´s only, only for the leader, whose hard cock he could already feel between his legs now, hard and demanding, and the green eyes stared into his so full of lust it was scaring him, he felt his own dick swell, rub against Dean´s groin, and Dean began to move, slowly, teasingly, torturing, sliding their hard cocks against each other, back, forth, back, Castiel moaned, louder, he cried, because this...this was Hell, and it was Heaven at the same time, and all the time, the green eyes held his gaze, hard and possessive and unyielding, burning into him, deep, deeper, and holy hell he felt the tip of Dean´s hard cock at his hole now, and Dean´s eyes changed, they grew darker, darker, until they were black, and brutal, and without any humanity left in them, and Castiel knew he'd be hurt, not like the pain the wild sex with Sam had brought, full of pleasure, no – pure and hot and cruel pain, deadly, Castiel knew it would kill him, KILL him, and yet he wanted it, had to have it, he had to, had to, had to, and then it-

With a jolt, he sat up, gasping, panting, shirt sticking to his body, trousers wet and sticky and...

Jesus...I´ve had an orgasm dreaming of being fucked to death, he thought. Fucked to death by Sam´s worshiped big brother, whom I should do everything to save, and bring down the bastards that turned him into... whatever he is now.

He didn´t move for a long time, sitting in the low chair, feeling sweat and come dry on his clothes and skin, getting cold, and not caring. When his disgust made him feel nauseous already, he got up with some effort, and stalked to his bathroom, went right into the bathtub with his clothes on, and turned on the shower.

He stayed under the running water until it turned cold.

The same room, same people, sitting on the same chairs. Same rituals, same voices ...Castiel got the impression of being caught in a time loop. Except – it wasn't´t the same at all.

He'd inadvertently looked up when an awkward silence fell after a rather heated remark from one of the US delegation´s members; strangely enough, everyone looked at Dean, who sat in his chair absolutely motionless and with no recognizable expression on his face – it was as if he was in trance, but with open eyes. Castiel stared at him just like everyone else, fascinated by the power the man held without doing anything, saying anything. _Is it just the organisation behind him, the weight of the huge company, or an authority given to him by character and strength and perfect control of himself_, he wondered ...and of course, his mind slipped again, to the moments where the control had abandoned the official version of Dean Winchester and left a human being instead. A confused, needy man, fear and hopelessness hidden deep inside.

He´s a two-sided coin, Castiel thought. And I know what his dark powerful side does to me, right? I´d love to get to know the other one, too ... see if I there´s more to this attraction than...S&M fantasies and sticky trousers.

Dean raised his hand, got up, and bowed politely. He spoke completely calm, friendly even, and Castiel felt the members of the US delegation relax. Fools, he thought. They don´t understand anything about Japanese power play...

Dean talked in English, so Castiel was free to watch and listen ... and no matter how hard he had tried not to look at the man all day so far, now he was caught again, a moth dancing around a streetlamp at night, consumed by its inability to leave ... I´ll fly into the light and burn, he thought, even if I try, I´ll never be able to get away... maybe in real life, yes, but he will take my mind hostage ... I´ll be a prisoner of my own desires, and this man will keep them alive ... forever..

He had drifted away, pictures of his dream were infecting his thoughts, Dean´s voice alone was enough to send shivers down his spine, the bed, his own tied hands, his writhing body, begging for more, more pressure, more torture, more pain, and the eyes...black holes sucking him in, swallowing his whole universe and leaving nothing but emptiness.

A noise escaped him, a suppressed, strangled moan.

Castiel froze. _Oh God, let me be hit by lightning NOW. Or open the ground and make me vanish forever..._ but no one seemed to have payed attention, they were all still listening intently to what Dean had to say, it was a lot, obviously, Castiel hadn't heard a word of it, the Japanese translators were murmuring, the stenotypists´ pens scratched over rough paper, the protocolists writing machine hammered in the background.

No one had noticed.

No one but one.

When Castiel dared to look at Dean again, he had just finished, and looked around, bowing in his elegant way. And then his gaze caught Castiel´. For a second or two...

And Castiel knew.

_I'm a __dead man_, he thought. _Cause I´ll never be able to get away from him._

The ambassador called for a break after that, and people were obviously keen to get up and move and get rid of the earlier tension. There was a general hustle and bustle untypical for high-end negotiations like this, and Castiel noticed how Dean talked fast and intently to two of his assistants, who nodded jerkily, took notes, and left in a hurry after a few minutes. Pause would be for 30 minutes only, and if he wanted to get some fresh air and clear his head, he'd have to leave. He put his notes in order, stowed them safely into his briefcase, closed it, and went to fetch his coat from the hall stand; he was held up by one of the US delegation´s assistants, who had a few questions to Japanese expressions regarding trade (well, better ask late than never, Castiel thought). He was eager to get out, move his legs, breathe in some spring air ... forget about what had happened. He was shrugging into his coat a little clumsily, when suddenly he felt hands holding it, helping him to get his arms into the sleeves.

"Thank you", he murmured, slightly embarrassed. He turned.

"I seem all stiff and clumsy from all the -". He stopped.

Of course...who else would it be. He stared into the green eyes.

There go your delicate wings, little moth, he thought.

"I wanted to apologize", Dean said. "For my ... inappropriate behavior yesterday. I am very sorry to have imposed myself on you like that."

Castiel searched the green eyes, and he found real regret in them. And strangely enough, it annoyed him.

"Do you regret approaching me at all or just the way you did it", he blurted out without thinking. He felt the heat flush his face the moment he'd closed his mouth.

Idiot, he scolded himself, idiot, shut up, just shut up!

He saw the brief flash of – anger? – in Dean´s eyes. Then they grew softer... pained, even, for a moment. He didn´t answer, but turned his head and scanned the room briefly, a soldier inspecting the ground. When his gaze returned to Castiel´- who felt like a complete fool – it went softer again.

"Would you like to take a walk?", Dean asked, and Castiel´ legs suddenly turned to useless appendages to his too heavy, too clumsy body.

"Yes", he croaked. "I – I was just heading out to get some air."

"Would you mind if I join you?"

Wings, body, antlers, little scuffling legs – the whole moth was in flames. Castiel could even hear the sizzling noise when it first touched the light.

They crossed the street, walked down the whole lane and turned left. At the end of the street was a small garden, one of the rare green places in the fast growing city. The sun was pleasant on Castiel´ face, and the fresh air seemed to bring his dazed mind back to functioning. They walked in silence first, until they reached the entrance gate to the tiny park. Dean stopped at the wooden structure.

"It wasn't my intention to scare you", he said somberly. "I – I got carried away." Castiel studied the handsome face. A muscle was twitching in the corner of Dean´s left eye.

To Hell, Castiel thought. I´m burning to ashes anyway - better to know if it was worth it.

"Do you regret it?", he asked. "Almost kissing me?"

The green eyes bore into his, and again, he believed to see pain in them for a moment.

"No". The voice was lower, rougher now. Castiel could feel the goosebumps run down his body. He shivered.

"Then why ...why did you stop?", he whispered, and he saw the want flare in Dean's eyes, a dangerous hunger, impossible to still. _He will consume me, skin, flesh, and bones_, he thought.

_And heart, and soul._

Dean raised his hand, as if to touch Castiel´ face, but stopped midway. His hand seemed frozen there for an instant. Then he let it fall down.

"Let´s walk", he said, and turned to enter the garden.

It was more like a tiny lawn with a few trees on it, a Japanese Acorn just showing the first tips of the new green leaves at the center of it, and three cherry trees, blossoms already raining down on the grass and the pebble of the path, a fast decaying layer of pale pink under their feet.

"So – how did you end up in Japan?", Dean asked, voice back to polite conversational mode.

Castiel threw the other man a brief glance. Dean´s face wore its usual inscrutable expression again. _OK. Let´s stay at the surface , then_, he thought, feeling a painful sting in his chest. _Let´s play the `everything is normal and we are just two business partners_ _taking a walk´ - card. Except that nothing, NOTHING, is normal here._

McGee´s request came to his mind, and he kicked at a stone on the path in frustration.

"My father was in the military. He was transferred here when I was a teenager. My mother and I moved to Japan with him."

A curious glance. He could feel it on his face like a flashlight being aimed at him.

"And you stayed?"

"Yes." His voice sounded rough, clipped.

All of a sudden, he didn't feel like talking any more. _This is insane, he thought. All I want to do is find someplace hidden and rip the clothes off that body, and be slammed against a wall and be kissed until my lips bleed, and ._... and suddenly, he knew that what he really wanted was to see the control leave the other man, completely, to see and hear and feel Dean lose it, unleash whatever was tamed inside that man – the monster and the sweet boy, both of them.

He stopped.

"Let´s go back", he croaked. _Being burned alive is Ok, but I can't just make polite conversation while my body is on fire, _he thought. Dean had made two more steps before he realized. He turned, a little surprised.

"I think we've still got time ?", he said, and it sounded like a question.

"I know, I – I just want to go back", Castiel murmured, embarrassed by his own behavior_._

_I ´m sorry, Dean ...I can´t... can´t pretend_, he thought. _Your sun is too hot, your light too bright._

"Oh...OK, then", Dean said. Castiel could hear a hint of insecurity in his voice.

They didn´t talk. Castiel could tell Dean was throwing him glances, and he got the impression the other man was just about to ask him something more than once; but in the end, they walked the whole way back in silence, a growing awkwardness in between them.

They reached the building, went up the stairs side by side, entered through the huge wooden doors held open by the doorman. They were in the hall, turned into the large corridor, staircase at the end, both deserted; but he could hear voices from above, the clinking of cups. They passed doors, one, two, three, hurrying as if driven by an invisible force ...

And then Castiel turned, and grabbed Dean, and slammed him against the wall.

Dean was so surprised he didn't even react for a moment - _thank God_, the tiny part of Castiel´ brain that actually still worked logically threw in, _you'd be dead by now otherwise_ – and Castiel used it, groped for the door handle, and pushed them both through the door. They stumbled into a small room, some office with lots of files in shelves on both walls and a huge desk in front of a narrow window. The moment of surprise was gone, and it was Dean back in control now ; Castiel felt his hands in his hair again, the folders cut into his back painfully, and Dean´s eyes were wild, flaming, and _oh God_, he was baring his teeth, for a moment, a wild animal setting straight hierarchy ... _it´s the alpha wolf staring at me_, Castiel thought, _unleashed for a second_, and in that moment, he was sure Dean would bite him, actually bite, bury his teeth in his throat, and shake him, and – there was a growl, an animalistic, feral GROWL coming from Dean, and Castiel´ groin answered immediately, aflame within an instant, cock twitching and pressing against his trousers..he felt sweat run down his back, and then the flame in Dean´s eyes changed, it was cold now, cold ice burning into his own eyes, and Dean´s hand was on his groin, pressure against pressure, hot and painful and _oh God_ so good... a strangled whimpering noise escaped Castiel, and he arched against the other man´s body, _needy like a dog in heat, _he thought. They stood like that, seconds passing, and only now Castiel realized he was panting, and he could feel Dean´s hot breath in his face, their noses were almost touching ...

And then the pressure on his cock was gone, hands held his face, but ...gently, and Dean´s thumbs caressed his cheekbones, soft and ... caring, and Dean´s eyes...they weren't cold, or wild, just ...soft, and sad. And guilty.

He felt those warm hands stroke the hair off his front, and then Dean´s face was even closer than before, and his lips were on Castiel´, soft and plush and immensely gentle, and they kissed, not at all like the last time, not like Castiel had imagined in his violent dreams.

No, not at all.

Just...so much better.

It lasted for a second, two, three, and then Dean suddenly stepped back, his lips were gone, his hands, and he just looked at Castiel for a moment, face an unreadable mixture of emotions...he seemed more confused than ever, and touched his front in an involuntary gesture, feeling for the long scar running from his hairline down to the right eyebrow.

His hand fell down, "I´m sorry", he croaked, voice strangled, "I – I can't...", and then he turned and was out of the door before Castiel had had time to open his mouth or move or react in any possible way.

And again, he found himself alone in the silence of a room, legs wobbly and heart pounding against his chest, shaken by lust and emotions and a fear that started to grip his soul with cold hands.


	12. Chapter 12

Everything was off after break, and although Castiel was convinced it was only his own state of mind first, he soon realized it was a general disquiet and edginess. When he finally found the courage to go upstairs, after whole minutes had gone by, he passed the Japanese companies´ leaders gathered together, Dean among them, talking fast and, as far as he could tell, pretty agitatedly. Someone was approaching Dean, and he recognized one of the assistants who´d left earlier; he gave him an envelope which Dean ripped open impatiently. Castiel strolled by, saw Dean read, frown briefly, and return to the group of businessmen. They fell silent when he joined them, waiting for his opinion.

He heard him talk in Japanese in a low voice, but couldn´t understand what, and didn't want to.

He entered the large room, and was immediately spotted by McGee, who waved at him.

"Where've you been? We´ve got a bit of a situation here...Washington thinks we've been too generous towards our friends here and wants us to renegotiate the three most important points, the ones that were most difficult to fix in the first place. Which means we can practically start from scratch, as all the other agreements depend on them."

He shoved his hand through his hair. "Don't know how we shall bring the Japanese to agree to any change at all. Why should they...Washington doesn't exactly want us to improve things for their side."

Castiel looked over at the door, where the Japanese delegations were filing into the room now. Dean was bent down to his assistant, talking fast, and didn't look up; he stopped two more times at the other companies´ places to talk, and listen; Castiel noticed McGee was following him with his eyes, too.

"They'll never agree", he murmured. "We're screwed. We need something to offer them...and not the ridiculous so called leverage the Chamber of Commerce has in mind."

Castiel looked at him questioningly.

"I can't even make an official offer without offending the other side", McGee sighed. "I mean – do they think we're negotiating with fools here? Damn politicians..." He seemed to forget that he, too, was a politician in his own way. Castiel watched the Japanese delegations. The room was humming with voices. McGee was summoned away by someone, and Castiel just stood there in the middle of all the busyness, feeling strangely lost. All of a sudden, he missed Sam.

He saw Dean approach McGee, and talk to him; McGee nodded, and went to the ambassador, while Dean returned to his chair. The bell was sounded to sign the end of break (far later than scheduled, Castiel noticed), and everyone took their seats and went quiet.

"In the light of the new ... events ... we will give all delegations time to re-evaluate their positions. We will meet again in two hours´ time here." McGee looked at Dean, Castiel noticed, who nodded back at him. So that was what they´d talked about...

The following two hours, he was head over ears covered with work, as the US side wanted an official written translation of the new requests made by Washington; and a prepared short version of the offers they´d make. Castiel´ head was spinning by the time they returned to the room; the Japanese delegations were already waiting in the hall outside. Automatically, Castiel scanned the crowd for Dean (he was a good few inches taller than most of the other men, so it was easy to spot him); but he was nowhere to be seen.

Well, he appeared soon enough, when everyone was already inside... and Castiel felt this little pang seeing his elegant figure move through the room, a feeling he'd have to get used to as it seemed.

_The kiss we've shared ... what exactly does it mean?,_ he asked himself. _And why does it frighten me? Am I afraid of ... falling for a bad guy?_

But deep down, he knew it wasn't the fact that Dean belonged to a huge and extremely dangerous criminal organisation whose power was ever growing. Well, he feared them, of course.

_But what you are really afraid of is... falling in love._

McGee announced the new positions in English, and Castiel had the doubtful pleasure of reading the Japanese version aloud (although the translation had been hectographed and was handed out by a secretary). He was uncomfortably aware of the eyes on him, and looked up when McGee had explained the next part of the new points, and signalled to him to go on translating.

It was a mistake, of course, because his eyes found the green ones like they were drawn to them by an invisible force; and this time, he found Dean looking at him, too. He faltered, and lost his thread for a moment; cheeks burning, he stammered himself back into the prepared statements. McGee shot him a slightly annoyed look and raised his

eyebrows. _Stop making a fool of yourself, _Castiel told himself, teeth clenched.

He got through the rest without further incidents.

It was the Japanese side´s turn to present their positions, and of course it was Dean who got up from his chair, and bowed.

_I'll __never get tired of watching him do this, _Castiel thought.

Dean hesitated for a moment, as if unsure how to address an unpleasant topic, or sweeten up a bitter truth. Seemed like he went for the unmasked and painful approach.

"The US have generously offered a magnitude of economic assistance to Japan so far, easing our way into G.A.T.T., and the transfer of technologies to Japan so our economy can evolve as fast as it does at the moment."

_He says `our´..`us´..., _Castiel thought.

"Yet, Japan´s large trade deficit is a point of dangerous vulnerability ... and it might easily harm the strategic alliance between Japan and the United States."

When he looked directly at McGee and the ambassador, his eyes were the sea´s cool green on a cloudy day in March. Castiel shivered.

"I don't have to explain how such ... instability ... can threaten an alliance crucial to the balance of power in times of conflicted global relationships."

Castiel felt the whole US delegation stir. _You've hit the sore point, _Castiel thought, _they are definitely getting nervous..._

"The US have always proclaimed to support the principles of free, open, and liberal trade in the post-war world economy. We would like to remind you that domestic protectionist demands, as are currently brought forth by your Congress, are against such principles."

Dean looked at his Japanese colleagues, than back at the US side.

"Nevertheless, we are ready to accept the program in the altered version you presented."

A ripple went through the people in front of Castiel. They actually straightened in their chairs. He could practically feel their surprise. He saw McGee exchange a look with the ambassador. Looking back at Dean, he found a faint smile playing around his lips. _Ah – here we go_, he thought.

"We would have a few suggestions to make such an agreement acceptable for both sides", Dean went on. "We absolutely need more access to the US market guaranteed. The trade restrictions imposed on Japan with the Peoples´ Republic of China would make a further opening of the large US market crucial to a complete integration of Japan into the Western bloc." Again, his words, spoken calmly, sent a wave of disquiet through Castiel´ employers.

"I´m sure you know there are alternatives to the current alliances..."

Castiel was almost sure he saw the ambassador´s face blanch.

So, that was the card Dean was playing – the ace up his sleeve. The ultimate leverage ... the Japanese side knew damn well America would go the extra mile to keep them away from the Communist bloc. _The extra-extra mile, _Castiel thought. In fact, there were few things the US would NOT do to strengthen the ties between America and Japan, as it was one of the prospering economies in the Asian region.

"To a US based institution, or company, Japanese economy might seem managed. You might even call it an economy of semi-cartels, with tight relationships between businesses and the government. And you would be right."

He had surprised them again ... _God, he plays them like a professional poker player, _Castiel thought. _They won´t even know what they agreed to in the end...or why._

"But this is the way our trade, and business in general are organized. America may have a different approach, celebrating the free market and liberal principles from its early days... but it is a question of different systems, not of an evaluation as to which one is better or worse..."

Dean raised his voice just a tiny little bit.

_God he looks gorgeous, _Castiel thought, admiring the broad shoulders, the slender waist ... the beautiful face...full lips..._their touch, so soft, so gentle..._

"Let me assure you – Japanese trading companies, as represented here in this room, want a tight alliance with the United States. And we are willing to accept the alterations in the VER treaty you asked for – in exchange for further possibilities to penetrate the largest market available to our businesses, which is the US market. We are absolutely sure such agreement would be to the benefit of both parties, and all our citizens."

Dean bowed again, and sat down.

The ambassador seemed out of words for the moment. McGee got up from his chair.

"You will understand, Mr. Winchester, that we cannot give you any further concessions without conferring with our government. But we will do so immediately...if you agree, I'd say we meet again tomorrow morning to talk about your offer. Both our offers", he added hastily.

Dean looked at his colleagues from the Japanese trading association, got their almost imperceptible nods, and turned back to McGee.

"It will be our pleasure", he said, his voice silky.

_He knows he´s got them at the short and curlies, _Castiel thought.

_As Sam would put it..._

It was late when he finally left the metro station, glad to escape the presence of other human beings after this long, challenging day...challenging in so many ways. Alistair had gathered the whole delegation for an emergency meeting, and they´d discussed further steps, someone high up in Washington on the telephone all the time, and both Alistair and the ambassador on edge and touchy. They all went on their ways exhausted, and, in Castiel´ case, with a nasty headache building fast.

He walked down the almost deserted street. Clouds had taken over the sky while they were inside the embassy, darkness had fallen early, and the first drops were already falling when Castiel hasted to reach the last metro; now, it was raining steadily, not too hard, but soaking his coat and jacket and trousers within minutes nevertheless. The market place in front of his building looked eerily, like the stage for some mystery play, wisps of steam danced elegantly between the empty stands, the rain´s constant downfall washing away the edges, the few streetlamps highlighting only details, little islands in a pool of blurred darkness. Castiel shivered. The water had reached his skin, and feet, and he realized only then that he hadn't eaten much all day. _Hot soup_, he thought. _A pot of steaming, hot soup, and some tea..._ his mother´s chicken soup came to his mind, the one she used to make when someone in the family was sick. He could almost taste it, and the ginger tea that always went with being sick, too. _I haven´t thought about that in years, _he thought.

He had almost reached the entrance, when he noticed the car. It wasn't exceptional in any way, just ... it made Castiel´ skin prickle. There were only few cars to be seen around here, mostly it was small lorries and those ridiculous three-wheeler mini trucks, bringing merchandise for the market. He couldn't lay the finger on why this one made him feel so uncomfortable..._instinct, _he told himself. _Maybe a case of ... survival skill? Comes with the new demands of the job._

He stopped at the entrance to his house for a moment, and stared at the dark car deliberately. _If someone´s watching me – whatever party – they should at least know I´ve made them._ He went inside, and closed the door firmly behind him, leaning against the smooth wooden surface. All the way up to his flat, and while he was hanging his soaked clothes above the bathtub, one question turned around and around in his head though. If he was right, and not going crazy, he was being watched; and either his pursuers took him for a complete fool, or...they WANTED to be made. _But why would they want me to know they are following me?_

_Is it some sort of protection detail? _Unlikely_._

_Does someone want to scare me? Threaten me? Play games with me?_

Much more probable, considering what kind of epic mess he was currently in.

_Or is it a warning? _

_And if yes...a friend´s warning, or a foe´s..._


	13. Chapter 13

The night had him tossing around in his bed, frightening nightmares alternating with long sleepless phases, until he finally gave up and got out of bed, staring out of the window, pacing the tiny room, drinking tea. More than ever, he missed Sam, his sheer presence and energy, the distraction his body offered.

Leaving the house early for a new day full of negotiations, and probably emotional challenges, he scanned the area briefly. No car. _Which proves exactly nothing...or everything. Or that I´m simply going nuts. Maybe I`m not cut out for this kind of life..._

Alistair waved him over as soon as he stepped into the small room adjacent to the conference hall. He pulled him into the niche at one of the large windows.

"Anything new so far?"

Castiel wondered how on earth he should have gathered any new information from the Japanese delegations overnight. The only explanation he could think of would be him sleeping with one of their secretaries...or...could it be Alistair had somehow found out Cas was gay? Had the loaded looks Dean and he had exchanged not gone as unnoticed as he'd believed? He decided to play it cool.

"No?", he answered, a hint of annoyance in his cold voice. It worked. Alistair pulled back immediately. _Watch and learn from the Winchesters, _Cas thought.

His boss ran a hand over his thin hair in a slightly distressed gesture. "I´m sorry, Castiel, that was ... it´s just that Washington puts us under a lot of pressure here, and the damn CIA isn't really helping with their vague hints and accusations without providing any proof...we have to play it well today, or the whole treaty goes down the drain." He took off his gold rimmed glasses and rubbed his eyes. "I don't even want to imagine the badlam that would cause. Not to mention the effect on our careers." Castiel watched him closely. The man looked stressed...no, not only stressed. He looked ...freaked out.

"Has something happened I don't know of? Or did the CIA bring some new information on ..one of the parties involved?" He searched the other man´s face for signs – ah. He'dhit base. Alistair scanned the room nervously, then he bent down and lowered his voice to a conspiratorial murmur. "They sent a file – well, a sheet full of rumours, you can't even call it a `file´- over, on this Winchester guy. Some little birdie obviously told them he could be involved with Yakuza somehow. I mean, the whole company he´s working for. So far, they have jack squat on either the man, or the Kuro Tora company...heck, it's even too clean to be true. Can be they don't even know themselves who pulls the strings in the background, can be Winchester is an innocent businessman looking for a career here in Japan. But honestly – the guy gives me goosebumps. And not the good type." He blushed a little. "I always get the feeling there´s an ice cold business man behind the pretty surface. Plus, the ambassador tells me Winchester is a known member of one of the sword fight clubs here. I mean, who in their right mind would go wielding a SWORD for God´s sake when we have nukes to solve our problems now!"

Cas was surprised once more by the sheer ignorance Western people, and especially his fellow Americans, showed where Japanese culture was concerned.

"I understand Iaido fighters don'tplan on going to war with their swords in hand in the immediate future", he said coolly, eyebrows raised. "That´s not what this is about. It´s a form of art, of body control and mastery of your spirit. You wouldn't desire our boxers for fighting with their fists when there are machine guns to kill your opponent much more effectively, would you?"

Alistair sensed his annoyance, and rowed back. He raised his hands in a calming gesture.

"Yeah, I get that, sorry. I know you are really into this Japanese culture and everything...anyway. This Winchester. Apparently he fights pretty damn well with one of those scarily sharp samurai swords, and it makes me kind of nervous. And that´s to say without even taking into account the possible Yakuza connection." He looked up again, watching the room carefully. When he bowed down again, his voice was reduced to a whisper. "Even the possibility scares the sh- scares me to death, I mean, Yakuza? They are one bunch of crazy cold bastards, and in comparison to them, our Mafia mob looks like a group of sad old wannabes in a retirement home swapping stories of the good old 30s."

Castiel´s mind raced. So... the CIA had got wind of the Yakuza connection. That could complicate things for Sam and him immensely. He wondered who the "little birdie" might be... Some concerned citizen? _I hardly think so...and what a coincidence, right now, when the negotiations go into a critical phase?_

Most likely, it was someone from inside Yakuza...someone aspiring to take Dean´s place in hierarchy once the rival was disposed of – and using the CIA to clear the path? _Perfect strategy, _Cas thought, _make your enemies fight against each other, watch them from a safe distance, and step in to collect your reward when they're both out of the way._

He needed to contact Sam. If the CIA started sniffing around...if they stumbled over Sam, for example...he remembered the suspicious car.

Dammit. They were so close – and things were already complicated enough. He had no intention of getting caught by the CIA for trying to do the right thing for once.

"Novak? Are you even listening?"

Alistair. Cas looked up, trying to give his face this threateningly blank expression Dean used to unnerve the Americans. As before, it worked. Alistair stammered.

"Ah, no, sorry, obviously you were – so, do you think you can do it? Get near him or one of his entourage?"

_Ah. I´m the hooker/spy now after all? Didn´t take them long. _

He watched the people in the room get ready for the next round of negotiations, without answering, and let Alistair stew.

"I – I will give you some excuse, a task, a question, anything that works as a cover. In fact, the CIA contact suggested we make you some sort of private mediator – third party, type, you know? Someone not involved directly, but well informed. You would be playing...Switzerland, that´s how they put it."

Cas eyed his boss. Unbelievable. How had he come from being the indispensable, but barely remembered staff member to playing Mata Hari?

He gave Alistair another cool look. "I´ll do it."

Alistair seemed surprised. "You will? Wow, that´s...I didn´t expect you to take this risk. Honestly, I – if Winchester or Kuro Tora or both ARE Yakuza, this could become really, really dangerous. So if you – as you´re willing to play this part, you'll certainly get some sort of protection by the CIA. They'll send surveillance, some sort of listening device -"

"Ah." Cas raised his hand to stop his babbling boss.

"I haven't told you my conditions yet." Alistair´s face fell slightly. "Conditions...of course. You'll get paid, obviously, and..."

Cas huffed. "I don't talk about money. You can pay me extra for it of course, but that's not what I meant. I´m doing this on the condition that the CIA, or ANY other US organisation, stays out of the game. Completely. I see one suspicious man, or car, or find a bug ANYWHERE near my place, my body, or Winchester, I'm out. And I'm inclined to sell you out on the man in case I do. If I have to switch sides to save my skin, I´m ready to do it." _You should get an award for this, _he thought. _Who'd have thought drama class in High School would pay out like that..._

Alistair was flabberghasted. "Ahem..of course, of course, if that´s your conditions..I´ll inform the contact. I´ll make sure he understands the..urgency of your request."

Castiel nodded briefly. "I do it my way, or I don't do it. Your choice. But honestly", he couldn't help adding, "It seems like the US side is pretty desperate if you are coming to someone like ME to do this kind of work. I mean – I´m the least qualified person for it, you should think."

Alistair shook his head. "No, that´s not true. You are highly qualified for it. And, what´s more, you´re absolutely unsuspicious. Squeaky clean, so to speak. The perfect disguise, right?"

Cas shrugged. "I´ll take that as a compliment, although I´m not sure I feel flattered. So – what do I do? What´s the task?"

But in this moment, the bell was calling all participants into the larger room;

negotiations started again.

Alistair bowed down once more. "I´ll give you everything I have during the next break. It´s not much I'm afraid...they seem to count on your intuition." Then he straightened up, and walked out of the room, Cas following him slowly.

Now that – THAT was a new turn of events he hadn't expected. Intuition... good luck with that, he thought. He'd only accepted the offer to get the CIA off their backs. He could only hope they would stick to his conditions, and leave him (and Sam, and Dean), alone.

And if they wanted to pay him for it – no objections there. They´d need money if ..when...once they´d finished their mission. Vanishing had its price. Especially when Yakuza, CIA, and hell only knew who else would be the ones looking for them.

In the end, Alistair didn't even have to pull some scheme out of the blue. Three hours into the day, negotiations were stuck – no, worse, they were only one step away from having everyone leave in frustration. The Japanese delegations had gathered for half an hour in private, and the US part had worked out possible answers to worst case scenarios. Cas had sensed the Japanese participants´ anger, and he couldn't blame them.

When everyone walked back into the conference room, Alistair gave him a folder with a single sheet of paper in it, nodding meaningfully; Cas had barely time to read it before the bell rang, and they were back in the ring.

Once more, it was Dean who got up to speak for the Japanese side. _He´s pale_, Cas thought. _And he looks tired...exhausted, actually. Seems I'm not the only one who hasn't slept much lately._

Dean practically set an ultimatum – either the US side showed them "any sign they were still interested in fair negotiations with positive effects for both sides", or the Japanese delegations would stop the whole process, and leave.

Cas watched Alistair, the ambassador, and Dean leave the room. They were back ten minutes later. Alistair looked like the cat in front of the cream pot, and nodded briefly in his direction; Cas´s eyes followed Dean through the room. He was talking to his colleagues. Alistair approached him, barely suppressing a grin.

"You won´t believe it...He ASKED for a mediator. They´ve come up with exactly the idea we had, can you believe that? And when I suggested you - he seemed hesitant at first, and doubted if you were really to be considered neutral ground. But...well, I could ensure him of your Switzerland status. So – long story short, he wants to meet you straight after we're finished here, and ...I guess then it´s in your hands. Have you read the sheet I gave you?"

Cas huffed. "I have."

"Not much to go with, huh?" Alistair had the decency to look worried.

"Good luck, Castiel. We depend on a good outcome of...all of this. It´s a milestone...a milestone", he repeated, to himself, nodding wisely. "But I trust you. We all do...we count on you, Castiel. Your country..."

Cas was glad that in that moment Dean appeared behind his boss.

"Mr. McGee", a sharp nod. "Mr. ...Novak?" Green eyes swallowed Cas, cool, yes, but only on the surface...something was boiling deep in them, a fire Cas could already feel on his skin, hot and searing...

"My partners have agreed to your proposition. I suggest Mr. Novak and me start immediately?" Cas shivered. The look Dean shot him ... he felt like a bunny in front of the fox...waiting impatiently to be devoured. Asking...BEGGING to be ripped apart.


	14. Chapter 14

"Where are we going?"

Dean glanced over, striding at a fast pace. Cas struggled to keep up with him.

"To a safe place." Cas looked at the inscrutable face. "Safe from whom?"

Dean shook his head almost imperceptibly. He turned into a narrow street to the left, and finally stopped in front of a small tea house. It was early afternoon, people were hurrying around them, and when they entered the tea house, the front room was pretty crowded. Dean nodded at a Japanese man – the owner, probably -, and they were led to the back, through another room, across a backyard, and into the a low building at the back. Dean ordered tea, and entered the small room. Cas saw it was a private tea room, beautiful in its simplicity, the only embellishing object being a twig full of cherry blossoms in a painted vase. He went over to the low sideboard it was placed upon. The vase was old, very old, it showed scenes of the life of some samurai ...fighting, riding a horse, squashing some enemy.

"Samurai Masashige", Dean´s voice ripped him out of his musings. "The most loyal of all...devoted to his emperor until death."

Cas glanced sideways. Dean stared at the pictures, following the line of a painted sword with his finger. "He fell by the hand of a fellow samurai, and traitor ...following his emperor´s orders to fight openly, against his better knowledge."

"Undying devotion in the face of death", Cas murmured. He thought of Sam...his devotion to a brother he barely knew, maybe even couldn´t remember well.

"Loyalty exceeding personal wellbeing, or even survival", Dean said, voice flat. "Of course, Masashige was used for propaganda during the war. Seems like one more betrayal..." His voice was far away...then he shrugged. "Old stories. We should come to some results here, or we'll both be the scapegoat for our respective sides."

Cas needed a few seconds to adjust to the new tone. "OK...where do we start?"

Their tea came, and Dean nodded to the waiter, a quiet message passing between their eyes. _He must use this place regularly...I wonder what for?,_ Cas thought.

The next hour, Dean summarized the Japanese companies´ point of view in very clear words; pointed out where there would be no room for manoeuvre; listened to Cas´ depiction of the official US side, and raised his eyebrows when he had finished.

"And..the unofficial version?"

Cas turned the delicate tea cup in his hands. Dean´s eyes had been on him all the time, intense, focused; and as business-like and matter-of-factly as he´d ever seen them. The fire he´d noticed in them earlier, it had been gone...until now. When Cas looked up, he found the spark in them again, the suppressed hunger of a man willingly starving himself to death. It vanished within an instant, replaced by the cool mask once more; but Cas had seen enough.

"Unofficial...?"

Dean huffed. "That´s what we are here for, right? To find out where the soft spots are...the points where each of us can put the hooks, and pull some big fish out of the water to impress our bosses...right? Make them feel like winners, and go home with their heads held high." Cas stared at the man, honestly surprised. He hadn't expected this kind of ... detachment? Serenity?

Dean obviously had read his mind. He chuckled. "Well, you didn't expect this" – he indicated themselves, and the room- "to be some honest-to-God `secret mediation´- thing, right? We figured your side would come up with something like that...and let´s face it, America has a lot more to lose than we do. And with this geisha murder story, nerves are lying blank already...So – what do we present them so they can keep their faces?"

After two more hours, they had something put together that actually sounded pretty convenient for both parts, both scribbling on their notepads, discussing small details, coming back to the big picture, heads sticking together, hands almost touching, no, touching for real...the hairs on Cas´ arms rose, sending shivers up to his shoulders, down his back. He put his hand on the table so it would make contact with Dean´s the next time he reached for one of the sheets that littered the surface; but when it did, Dean´s hand twitched back. And Cas, without thinking, reached for it, and grabbed it.

He sensed the tension that filled the other man´s body within an instant, all muscles on alert, ready to strike; the green eyes bore into his, darker than he'd ever seen them, and dangerous, deep, bottomless abysses to get lost in, filling with something else now...want, and lust, struggling with something that could only be guilt, or fear, or both, but how could that be? _Why would he feel guilty?, _Cas wondered, staring into Dean´s face, so close, even closer now, leaning forward, closer...and then Dean grabbed his hand, too, grasped for his tie with his free hand, and jerked him over the table, their faces met, finally, but then Dean stopped, staring into Cas´ blue eyes, darkened too. For a moment they just remained like that, their eyes locked...and then Dean closed the gap between their faces until their fronts touched, and pressed his lips on Cas´, those plush, full, delicious lips...and with a move Cas couldn't quite see coming, he was pulled over the low table, and somehow landed on the floor at the other side, Dean´s face above his, the other man holding him down with the weight of his well muscled body, hands pinned down above his head by one of Dean´s strong, broad hands, their bodies locked at the thighs, groins pressed together...and Cas could feel his cock respond, to the pressure, to the pain in his arms, the violent want in Dean's eyes, the way he was pinned down, helpless, vulnerable, unable to move; felt the matching bulk in Dean´s trousers, rubbing against his groin, and dammit, the man started moving now, excruciatingly slow, a few inches up, a few inches down, the idea of movement only, and Cas wanted it, no, he NEEDED it, right now, and he jerked against the other body as good as he could, arching his back to get more friction where their groins locked, and moved, too, rubbed and pressed against the hard bulk, and saw the smile on Dean´s face, dark and dangerous and...needy, yes, the other man needed that as much as he did, he could see it, feel it, _I wonder what his dreams looked like during the last days, did he have those pictures in his head, too, _he thought, but then Dean started to move his hips for real, slow, fluent movements, and Cas forgot what he was thinking, his whole body taken over by need ... at some point, he felt like he couldn't live one more minute without feeling Dean´s lips on his, and licked his own lips, staring up into the beautiful face above him, even more beautiful now that it was filled with pure want, and lust...eyes the dark green of a stormy sea...and Dean understood. Another smile, satisfied, predatory, and then Cas´ lips were devoured by that gorgeous mouth again, a tongue worked its way in between his lips, claiming him, digging and pushing and licking, and someone moaned, loud, embarrassingly so...and with a shiver, Cas realized it was his own voice, needy and wanton like he´d never heard it. And he found he didn't care.

He knew he wouldn't last for much longer, his cock painfully hard and pressing against his all too narrow trousers, and he could tell Dean wasn't far away, too; if this shouldn´t end in a big mess and sticky trousers, they´d have to...do something... do...stop...

"Stop", he panted, tearing his mouth from Dean´s, "Dean...stop!"

Strangely enough, Dean did, and looked at him questioningly, through a haze of lust, a little dizzy even, not quite himself...

"Dean...trousers", Cas pressed out, the other man´s weight and the heavy pulsing in his cock taking away the air; Dean looked...confused, until realization hit him, visibly. Something else crept into his eyes, it was as if he was waking from a dream, and Cas saw it, fear, and shame, the blissful pressure on his dick started to vanish...and suddenly he knew...Dean wouldn't go on, he wouldn't – pull through with it.

It made him angry, for some reason. Angry was good...because it made him act without thinking. He used the room between them, and the still slightly dazed state Dean seemed to be in, to grab for Dean´s belt, and opened it with a violent jerk; fumbled for the buttons on his trousers, while at the same time, he wriggled his other hand free, Dean obviously too surprised to keep him pinned down longer, and pulled his face down, pressing his front against the other man´s for a moment, and then ...kissing him. Full of passion, and calming at the same time, telling the other man it was OK, he could..they could trust each other with this, they could...three buttons, four..and finally he had the trousers opened, and pulled them down with one hand clumsily, pulled the panties down with them, and felt Dean´s ass, wonderfully firm and muscled and the skin so smooth...a new wave of lust ran through his body, and from the sound Dean moaned into his mouth, the other man felt it, too...his cock sprang free, full and hard and glorious, and Cas used the moment, pushed against Dean´s shoulders with both his hands, and turned them over. Now it was him on top, straddling Dean, one hand pressing down the other man at the chest, the other closing around the full cock – and Dean jerked, almost throwing Cas off his lap.

"Whoa, easy there...easy", Cas murmured, and bent down to kiss the already swollen lips, biting the full lower one; his fingers stroked the twitching cock in his hand; he released Dean´s lips for a moment, and his dick, too, and staring into Dean's eyes with deliberate frankness, he raised his hand to his mouth, and licked it, licked his fingers and the palm until it was wet with spit, and Dean´s eyes darkened even further, pupils almost blown...and when Cas brought his hand back down between their bodies, finding the hard, hot member, and started to stroke, up and down, up and down, mixing spit and precome and finding the sensitive spot right beneath the head´s rim, the slit, the whole swollen head, he saw what he'd hoped for all the time, without knowing it...without even admitting it to himself in his dreams.

Because Dean...Dean lost it.

The cool, controlled business man – he was gone. What Cas found under his own shaking body now was a writhing, squirming body, and body alone, nothing but need and a hoarse rumbling voice moaning for more, more, in a weird mixture of Japanese and English...no thoughts, no mind, no emotion aside from sheer want... no guilt, nor shame, nor fear, not even the danger the man had emanated just minutes before – all gone. This was ... a wild animal, buried in a cage for a long time, almost too long, remembering its instincts: realizing it carried all this in itself, this pleasure, beyond everything else, pure, unhindered, uncontrolled, lust. And for once, the man forgot to control it... the animal dived into the new freedom. Cas panted, barely keeping Dean down, he thrusted against his hands, his hips, with a force Cas couldn't hold against, Dean´s hands digged into his sides, his back, sure leaving dark marks and bruises, nails cutting the skin, and Cas still didn't care, because...he was falling, too, falling and rising high into the sky at the same time, he´d lost all sense of time or place, and had you asked him who he was at this point, he´d have had no answer, no answer at all, no name, he wasn´t anyone, he was just...he WAS, his own body and the other one jerking under him, both shaking and trembling and moaning, fingers bruising flesh, teeth biting into soft skin, and still Cas´ hand was closed around the swollen cock, fingers feeling the pulse in the veins, racing, racing, just like the heartbeat under his other hand, still pressing down the fighting body ... Dean´s eyes were blown, wide, not seeing, head bent back as far as it would go, in a painful looking angle, their mouths had broken contact as both were gasping for air ...and suddenly Cas knew what he wanted, knew he had to take Dean in, taste him fully, and he let go of his chest, and his dick, and slid down his body until his lips were just above the erect cock slapping against the flat tummy, and Cas licked his lips once, held Dean down at the hipbones with all his strength, and swallowed the cock´s head, pressed his tongue against the leaking slit, and sucked.

Dean´s whole body arched up, a bow ready to be fired... his mouth opened in a voiceless scream, producing only a hoarse, gurgling sound that didn't even seem human...and he came in Cas´ mouth, filling him with spurt after spurt of come, thrusting upwards into the mouth, so willingly offered, and Cas swallowed and took, and sucked... Dean was all that mattered, the salty taste in his mouth, hot and creamy, tangy, musky scent filling his nose, the feel of Dean´s skin under his hands, the strong leg muscles playing under his chest...he sucked, and swallowed, and sucked, until the thrusts became shallower, the breathing hitched, and rattled, and the movements slowed finally down.

Cas released Dean´s soft cock, pressing his front against the man´s tummy, his seductive scent so strong it made him dizzy; his own penis was still waiting for relief, painfully stretching against his pants, aching, pulsing. He fumbled for his belt, the buttons, and finally managed to open the fly, almost crying with need now; he pushed himself up until he knelt over Dean, who just lay there, still shivering and panting, legs shaking, eyes closed, hands pressed against the floor. Cas looked around, desperate to find something he could jerk off into, a cloth, anything, and a whining sound escaped him; Dean´s eyes jerked open. He looked confused, like woken from a dream, staring at Cas like a lost kid; but then Cas saw the wheels click into place, saw realization hit the other man, saw him recognize his overwhelming need. Dean hesitated for only a moment; then he grabbed Cas´ buttcheeks, and shoved them closer to his face, grunting, locking eyes with him. Cas stared at him, and then he understood. He fell off Dean, rolling on his back, and Dean was there, bowed deep over his aching cock, just eyeing it for an instant, as if contemplating its form and size, the swollen red shaft, the almost bursting head, precum leaking from the slit; again, he locked eyes with Cas, and Cas found wonder in the deep green, curiosity, and a hint of insecurity; and for the first time, it hit him that maybe this – that maybe Dean had never done this before. He didn't have time to ask, though, because the next moment, Dean´s lips closed around his cock´s head, and a jolt of pleasure shot through his body, head to toes, and when Dean´s tongue whirled around the rim once, twice, he was gone, exploding in white light, and there was nothing , nothing but pleasure, pleasure, pleasure, and the only thing he was still capable of thinking was that he might actually faint there and then.

He didn't, though. When his senses started to kick in again, first thing he noticed was the heavy weight on his stomach, and he grasped for it, feeling Dean´s hair, short and stubbly at the neck, like sand paper, or shark´s skin; he let his hand wander upwards to the back of the head, where it was longer, soft, his fingers dug into the already tangled hair, messing it up further; finally, he rested his hand on the side of Dean´s head, feeling his ear under his palm, the smooth skin at his temple. They lay like that, chests still heaving, bodies trembling from exhaustion. The air felt cold on Cas´ spent cock, wet from Dean´s saliva, and the floor was cool against his bare ass; but he felt like he could stay like that nevertheless, all night if necessary, just feeling the other man´s skin and warmth and his pulse on his own body.

Eventually, Dean stirred, and rolled off Cas´ body, unto his back. Cas turned his head so he could see him. The other man was staring up at the ceiling, his face reddened and sweaty, lips swollen, even a little bruised.

"Dean", Cas said after a minute or two. His voice sounded rough. Gravelly. Dean closed his eyes. A few seconds passed, then Dean turned his head, opening his eyes.

_His lashes...so unbelievably long..and curly...I wonder if they turn blond during summer, _he thought. _I wonder if I´ll live to see it. If we all will live that long...Sam, and Dean, and me._

Cas remembered the question that had sparked in his mind earlier, wiped away by Dean´s lips on his cock.

"Dean, did you – did you ever have sex with a man before?"

Dean looked at him for a moment, then he turned his head away, facing the ceiling. His body was unnaturally still. Then he closed his eyes.

"No", he said.

_This is a known member of one of the most dangerous and best organized mobs in the world – not any member, but a rising star, a man who could kill you personally with his bare hands, or have you killed whenever he deems it necessary. And this is also the man for whom you will forever be his first. And with whom you experienced something yourself for the first time...that giving pleasure can be even more satisfying than taking it._

Only thinking of what Dean was capable of...it turned him on again already.

"I want to give you...more", Cas whispered. _Just go on, say what you have to say, if he kills you, let it at least be worth it. _His mind raced, thoughts whirling around in his head, driven by fear and the need to get this off his chest alike.

_I must be on some after-sex high. Or I've lost my mind completely now._

"I want to touch your skin", he went on, voice a rasping whisper only, "want to touch every inch of your body, with my hands, and my lips, I want to lick my way up and down your spine and swallow your cock down, feel it harden inside my mouth, and I want you to take me, to bury yourself in me as deep as it gets, and deeper, I want your cock so deep in me you become part of me, and I want you to ride me so hard I bruise my back from your thrusts", he could hear Dean´s breathing fastening, and felt his own cock twitch, he didn't understand what had hit him to talk like that, he never had, whenever he had had sex with other men – aside from Sam – it was furtive moments in dark back rooms or toilets, a story of minutes, sucking someone off or getting a blow job himself, and even the rare cases of real actual sex had been like stolen pleasure, hidden and with precautions beyond measure.

And now, with Dean, _a killer as far as I know, ruthless and brutally trained and probably brainwashed by Yakuza, _his mouth seemed to be talking by itself, spilling his secrets as if a floodgate had been opened...Sam had talked dirty, too, and Cas had thrown in some sentence now and then, encouraging him, but this...this was new.

"I want to straddle you and want you to thrust your gorgeous dick into me from beyond as hard as you can, and bite my nipples as you do it, bite my throat until I bleed, I want to leave marks on your skin from sucking at it hard", Dean was positively panting at his side, and he could feel his hands twitch, and ball to fists, "I want your lips around my own cock and suck it down to the base, and I want to thrust into you until you gag on my length, and I want you to shoot your come all over me right into my face and I want you to lick it off from there, taste your own come on me, and then I -"

And then Dean was above him, panting, pushing his shoulders hard into the floor, his eyes were wild, fear shot through Cas´ body, only for an instant, and it was enough to make his cock harden immediately again, yes, _that´s what I want, Dean, lose it with you here on the floor in this cold room, messy and –_

Dean bared his teeth, like in the office room at the embassy. He shoved Cas´ shirt up to his armpits with one swift move, and then Cas groaned, cause the other man had his teeth clamped around one of his nipples, and dug into the sensitive flesh.

_I might die from pleasure here, just like in my dream, _he thought. _And I wouldn't even mind._

He arched up and raised his head so his teeth could find Dean´s flesh, too, just where the neck and the shoulder met, his hands pulled away the already crumpled shirt, and then he bit the other man, buried his teeth in the smooth skin, and Dean released his nipple and cried out in pain...and Cas rolled them over, sucking at Dean´s flesh now, tasting blood, and there was the growl again, deep and throaty and so hot it made Cas shiver, and then he was on his back, Dean pressing unto him with his full weight...and he grabbed Cas´shirt, and actually tore it, ripped it off his body, Cas heard a button hit the vase. Dean stared down at his pale chest with darkened eyes, _wolf´s eyes, _Cas thought, and _bite me, Dean, mark me, make me yours, _and he might have actually said that aloud, because again, Dean bent down, and then Cas gasped when the teeth tore into his skin, pulling blood, he writhed under the hard mass of muscle that pinned him down mercilessly, squirmed to escape the pain, and craved it at the same time, wanted it so badly he grabbed Dean´s broad shoulders with both his hands and pulled him closer...

He buried his hands in Dean´s shirt, pulling, desperate to get his fingers in contact with his skin, and Dean straightened up, straddling Cas, and struggled out of his shirt, and undershirt, and Cas gasped, because that – he hadn't expected THAT, arms covered in tattoos, shoulders to wrists, he stared up into Dean's eyes, widened, and then he had to know, he raised his upper body until their faces were almost eye to eye, filed his arms under the backs of Dean´s knees, and threw him off his groin, following him with one swift move, turning him on his stomach with a grunt, and pinned him down, hands arresting hands, groin pressing down Dean´s ass.

Dean buckled against his weight, and moaned at the same time, no, whined, _like a dog in heat, needy, needy dog, _and Cas moaned too, because Dean´s back was the most erotic thing he´d ever seen, one big tattoo covering the skin from the nape to the small of his back, _Yakuza tattoos, he already wears them, which means..._no, he didn't want to think about what that actually meant, his hard cock was rubbing against Dean´s cleft, the muscles on Dean´s back moved, and so did the pictures, a large beautifully scaled carp, and flowers, blossoms, writing, all melted together, and Cas stared down at it, and started to rub, to slide, cock against ass, he felt Dean respond with pressure, more pressure, he raised his hips, heaving Cas up as if he weighed nothing, and Cas took the chance and glided down, kneeling behind Dean now, he grabbed his hipbones and pulled his ass up and close until it touched his cock again, and then he slicked his index and middle finger, sucked them in two, three times, found Dean´s tight hole, and just put his wet fingertips to it.

Dean jerked. Cas kept his left hand on his hipbone, forcefully pressing him back against his groin, and then, he pushed his fingers in, without further warning.

Cas had never heard a sound like the one Dean produced. Something between a cry, a growl, and a keening howl...Dean was panting fast, but Cas didn't give him time to react...he pulled his fingers almost out, almost, and pushed in again, pulled out, pushed in, and this time, he scissored them inside the tight hot hole, and pushed once more, deep, deep into Dean, until he found the spot, and crooked both fingers – and Dean cried out for real, a hoarse breathless sound... and pushed his ass against Cas´ fingers. Cas pulled out, getting a whimpering moan from Dean; he grabbed his hips, positioned the tip of his hard cock at his reddened hole, breathed in shakily, and pushed, pushed , pushed, his hands in an iron grip holding Dean in place, writhing, squirming, panting Dean who had his head buried in his arms on the floor, ass sticking out for Cas, _mine, he´s mine and only mine, _Cas thought, confused about his own thoughts, he´d never, never thought about anyone like that, not even Sam, "you're mine, Dean, mine, you hear me? Your ass is for my cock only, I will ride you until you scream with pleasure, you hear me?" He started pulling out slowly, and pushed back in faster, pulled out again, Dean whimpered and trembled under him, but Cas went on, pushed, pulled, and all the time, he was talking, "I´ll fuck you until you lose your mind, Dean, fuck you, fuck you, fuck your stupid beautiful ass, fuck your hole until you´re screaming, you hear me? I´ll fuck you against the floor and against the wall, and I´ll bend you over a desk and fuck you some more, and maybe I even take you on a bed, I´ll make you spread your legs so wide it aches, and then I´ll thrust into your hole so deep you'll forget your name and everything you ever knew..."

He was delirious. Gripped by a fever he´d never felt before, a frenzy unknown, a madness never experienced. He thrust, and talked, and panted, and thrust, thrust, thrust, and grabbed Dean´s hard cock and jerked in rhythm with his thrusts, until there was no rhythm any more, only violent, deep jerks, and cramping legs, shaking arms, and their grunts and moans, he couldn't even tell whom they came from.

When they finally came, at the same time, it was like a fever dream, vision blurred and all senses magnified a hundredfold, all nerves burning and screaming, and they were rutting and shaking and trembling against each other like people having a seizure.

And then, it was over. Dean sank down to the floor, and Cas just fell on him, covering warm, smooth skin with his own, the scent of sweat and sex heavy...he rested his head between Dean´s shoulder blades, his ear above the still racing beats of his heart, matching his own...calming down eventually...he heard Dean´s breathing deepen and slow...slow down...

"Dean..."

"Hmmmm..."

"We can't fall asleep here...not like that." They both didn't move, though. Just stayed. Listened. Felt. It was strangely comforting to have someone´s heartbeat and body warmth and scent fill all perception ...as if there was no reality beyond this, as if they were in their own world, no sides and parties, no negotiations, no cruel past tarnishing the present, no mission, just two human beings enjoying each other´s existence.

_That´s how it could be,_ Cas thought. It filled him with melancholy...and then anger. _How can there be a God or fate or anything caring for what happens to us if it comes down to this – bad things happening to good people? Messed up lives, lost possibilities...pain and hate and cruelty and greed. _But then, there was the other side, too, right? A brother literally going to the other side of the world to try and save his next of kin. Purity and gentleness, like in the girl Sam had talked about... or two people giving each other pleasure, and finding comfort in each other´s arms.

_Life is a complicated, intricate pattern we don´t understand, and can´t read until the end has come, and we see it whole...maybe not even then, _he thought, his head rising and falling with Dean´s deep breaths under him. A gentleness filled him all of a sudden, the anger had dissolved, and he raised his tired, heavy arm and caressed Dean´s skin, traced the pictures on his shoulder blade, the shoulder, followed the lines down his upper arm to the elbow.

_I could love this man, _he thought.

_Save him. Love him. Heal him._

"I´ll save you", he whispered, eyes heavy, mind already drifting.


	15. Chapter 15

Obviously, it was the wrong thing to say.

Dean stirred under him, and then Cas found himself pinned down on the floor again, Dean´s face above his own. Dean´s tense, suspicious face. His eyes were piercing. The relaxed atmosphere had gone in this one instant...Cas could almost feel the tension filling the air.

"What?"

_Dammit. Goddammit. What do I tell him now? _Cas´mind was working frantically. _Does it even matter, as he'll probably kill me anyway, no matter what I say?_

Because the professionally trained Yakuza businessman/killer was back, Cas saw it in the cold shade of green Dean´s eyes had taken on, felt it in the pressure of his arm across his chest. It wasn't meant to give pleasure, this time.

"You'll SAVE me? From what!"

_What the hell,_ Cas thought. _We won´t be able to do this without his consent, anyway._

"Yakuza", he simply said.

A flash of surprise. "You know", Dean said, and his eyes took on a murderous expression.

He was on top of Cas before Cas had even batted an eyelid, body tensed and ready to strike. One of his hands closed around Cas´ throat. _One move, and I´m dead, _Cas thought, strangely indifferent. _At least we've had this one earth shaking sex experience together._

"What are you – CIA? Police? A damn spy?" His voice was strained, words spit out like venom. "Has the embassy set you on my trail? The government?" He let go of Cas´ throat. His fingers traced Cas´ chin, up to the cheekbone, stroked his brow. It was gentle, and more frightening than anything Cas had ever experienced. "My shy little translator", Dean sneered, and Cas could see his teeth again, _his wolf´s face._ "I should have been more careful, right? Should have suspected something was off when you turned out to be such an experienced whore." His fingers wandered up to Cas´ hairline, into his messed up hair, a tender caress...and then the strong hand grabbed Cas´ hair abruptly, balled to a fist, and he jerked his head back, exposing Cas´ throat, pulling so hard it made Cas tear up, and Dean bent down...Cas could feel his lips on his skin, then his teeth, just gracing the surface, and he shivered, finding a sick pleasure in it all, but also from fear.

_So that´s how I die, _he thought. _Not too bad...straddled by the hottest man I've ever met in my life..._

Dean had found the marks he´d left earlier, and dug his teeth into the already bruised skin, but slowly, and deeper than before, and Cas whimpered involuntarily, and tried to get away from the pain...

Dean´s malicious grin appeared in front of his face again, his eyes were literally sparkling with contempt. Cas saw blood on his lips, _my blood, _and wasn't even surprised any more when he felt his cock twitch.

"Have you lost your voice, little translator? I sure remember you talking a lot earlier...and oh, such dirty words in that pretty mouth of yours...", Dean snarled.

He came closer, lips almost touching Cas´ now, ghosting over them softly, teasing him, wandering to his ear.

Dean whispered so low now it was almost inaudible. Cas felt the other man´s breath rush over his skin, tickle the fine hair on his ear.

"Don´t you know we don´t like traitors and spies much, _Castiel?_" The way he said the name, it was an insult. Cas´ body started to ache from the pressure on his chest, but this...this hurt more, the words, and the cold hate spewing from them.

"Don´t you know", Dean´s words were barely audible now, "what we do with people who want to wriggle their way inside our family to destroy it?" His lips wandered back over his face, a tender touch, so caring, and so wrong. Then Dean sat up again, but bent down to stare into Cas´ eyes, gently drawing a line around them with his index finger. "What a pity...what a waste. Such a beautiful face, and such talented lips..."

Cas was beyond fear now. If anything, he was turned on, which honestly made him question his sanity again. He was pretty sure he wouldn't live to see the next morning, and he accepted it... _Poor Sam, _he thought. _Poor, deluded Sam, looking for phantoms from his past who don´t exist any more..._

He looked up into the cold, beautiful face, showing a cruelty that made Cas cringe inwardly. _What the hell...I owe it to Sam, _he thought.

"I´m here for your brother", he croaked. "And, believe it or not, for your sake."

Dean went completely still.

Ta-damm, ta-damm, ta-damm, went Castiel´s heart.

A weird expression flickered over Dean´s face. "My brother", he whispered, the sneer gone.

"My...Sammy?" For a moment, there was a longing in his eyes, and a pain so deep and old it cut right into Cas´ heart. Then his expression changed. Rage flamed up in the man´s eyes. Cas flinched.

"How dare you", Dean pressed out between his teeth. "How dare you even mention him, you filthy slut." The blow came as a surprise, and so did the pain that whitened out Cas´ vision for seconds, throwing him into a spinning world full of too bright stars piercing his eyes, his head, his whole body. When he came back, to a sharp throbbing at the side of his face, vision blurred from the tears of pain running down his cheeks and temples, he saw Dean straighten up, face stony.

"My brother is dead", he said. "Has been dead for a long time. You chose the wrong pressure point, Castiel...your secret service should have given you better information. Or did they just sacrifice you ... sending in the little innocent lamb ... such a tease..." his hand wandered down to Cas´ throat again, pressing down, constricting Cas´ breathing.

"Not...dead...Sam...here...Tokyo", he choked out. "Met ...him..."

The pressure was released just the tiniest bit. _That´s your last chance, Castiel, _Cas thought.

"Should know, as I slept with him several times..."

Slap-slap. His head was thrown left, then right, panging against the floor, and for seconds, Cas´ head was nothing but a balloon full of rhythmically pounding pain. _Nice job provoking the beast that has pinned you down under its claws, teeth bared and tasting blood... _Cas ´ thoughts were oddly detached again. _Funny how Dean falls back into the fist fights of his youth, and doesn´t use the refined fighting techniques they sure drilled into him at Yakuza..._

Before Dean could go on with whatever punishment he´d had in mind, hand already raised above Cas´ face, Cas just plunged on, speech already slurred from the swellings that started to deform his cheeks.

"He´s come here..to find you...save you from...Yakuza, and...take you..home." Talking wasn't exactly pleasant, or easy. "Looked for..you...years..and waited for..opportunity..."

The hand sank down, minimally. "Found...your father´s ...secret archive...information...on your abduction...Sam...prepared...for years...and now...he´s here."

Cas saw the fist clench tight again, knuckles white. "My father was a dirty cop, trying to save his own hide sacrificing his family. He did nothing, NOTHING, to find me, or even look for me!" Dean pressed the words out through teeth clenched so tightly he was barely intelligible. "He crossed paths with the wrong mob, got my mother and Sammy killed, and me – me..." Dean closed his eyes, squeezed them shut, and for a moment his face showed such desperation it made Cas´ eyes water.

Then Dean had caught himself again, and bowed deep over Cas. His face wasn't the cold mask any more, now it was a display of emotions, _I've never seen him that beautiful,_ Cas registered somewhere at the far back of his crazy mind.

"It was Yakuza who saved me", Dean whispered, in a choked voice, "it was them who pulled me out of that cage, out of the darkness and away from the – the pain, and...and taught me to fight and gave me a home. Not my FATHER!" He spat the word out, and Cas flinched at the hate in Dean´s voice, his distorted face.

"My family was slaughtered by thugs sent by the scum of New York, but I found a new one. Yakuza is my family now, and believe me, they are nothing like the filthy mob back in America."

And Cas understood, finally he understood, how Dean had been able to fit into Yakuza´s army so well, and never even look back at his life before he had been abducted. Why he never even tried to find Sam. Yakuza had made him completely compliant, twisting his memories, turning everything he remembered into a lie, and burning their own version into his brain ...using his desperation, the sense of betrayal, to turn him into their most devoted soldier. _They turned him into their own Samurai Masashige, loyal to death, _he thought. _How can I, how can Sam erase all those lies, and the years of hate and rage? Make him see the truth again?_

"They lied to you", he whispered, tears constricting his voice, "Dean, they lied. Sam is alive, and he´s here to see you. I -"

Dean´s fist crashed down on Cas´ nose, and he could feel the bone shatter before his vision blackened out.

He wasn't gone for long, barely 30 seconds, and when he tried to focus his eyes again, choking blood and barely able to breathe through the blood streaming out of his nose, running down his cheeks, and lips, and chin, the first thing he took in was Dean´s naked form crouching at his side, leaning against the wall, arms slung around his knees, and although the pain was blurring his vision, and doing strange things to his brain, he noticed that Dean´s face was wet. _Did I punch him too?, _he wondered for a moment, thoughts disconnected and floating around his head in tiny pieces...

_No...that´s not blood...it´s tears. He is crying._

And suddenly, he didn't see the tough, cold businessman, nor the perfectly trained killer. What he saw was a 16 year old boy cowering on the floor, rocking back and forth, crying in desperation, mourning the loss of everyone he'd ever held dear and loved in his life, and the loss of his whole world.

Cas scrambled to his knees, the blood was choking him, and he grabbed for something to still it; finally, he pressed his shirt to his face. _No use keeping it clean...I'm dead anyway. _

He ended up leaning against the wall, too, a few feet apart from Dean, who had stopped crying and stared into nothingness, lost in his own world.

Eventually, Cas´ nose would stop bleeding (not hurting, though); he leant his head back, closing his eyes, listening to Dean´s shallow breathing. He shivered. The room was cold after all, and without Dean´s warm skin on his own, being naked wasn't that comfortable. He didn't move though, too exhausted to do anything but sit, and wait...what for, he wasn't even sure. _Maybe death, _he thought.

Sam´s face appeared in his mind, and, strangely enough, Takemi, his long lost friend. _Maybe we are just doomed. Maybe fate has some epic plan involving us all, a giant chess play..._

And then, he started to talk, just like that, as if they were two people catching up on each other´s lives for some reason...and Dean didn't stop him, Cas couldn't´ tell if he was even listening, but he went on nevertheless. He told him about his childhood, and Takemi, how he'd ended up in Japan, about his work, and his anger, and then about how Sam had stumbled into his quiet life, Sam´s version of Dean´s reality, and about their crazy plan to bring down those who'd destroyed Sam´s and Dean´s family, right to the negotiations, and Alistair´s request that he, Castiel, should find out about the opponent´s flexibility, and he didn't even hold back on the CIA´s vague suspicions about Yakuza´s influence in the whole process, and the anonymous source of those accusations.

"My boss was delighted when you requested me especially for these...`inofficial mediation´ talks´", he ended, voice hoarse, and muffled from the swollen, painful pounding nose. He closed his eyes again, immensely tired all of a sudden.

"And for a moment, I thought – I believed that this hopeless mission could actually work...that we had a chance, against better knowledge and experience."

He huffed mirthlessly. "And whatever you believe...whatever you take me for...what we had before...the sex? I never ...I've never felt anything like that."

He fell silent, eyes closed. He didn't open them when he heard Dean scramble to his feet, the rustling of clothes, broken porcelain cracking under heavy steps. _Did we break something?, _Cas wondered, listening to the steps moving away. When they stopped, he finally opened his eyes. Dean stood at the door, fully clothed, suit a little crumpled, and his hair not as perfectly combed as usual. He looked at the vase with samurai Kusunoki Masashige´s pictures on it, the scene where the traitor Ashikaga Takauji brutally slays him.

Cas flinched when Dean spoke, not expecting him to.

"He had a brother", Dean said, voice low, and rough. "Kusunoki...he had a brother who fell with him in the battle against the traitor. He wouldn't leave his brother in the hour of death." Cas watched the other man. Dean´s face was unreadable again, but something seemed different. _It costs him, _Cas realized, _it´s not effortless any more._

Dean turned to the sliding door. He didn't look at Cas.

"I´ll tell your boss Alistair that the mediations have been successful, and that the Japanese delegations will return to the conference table on Monday." Business voice again.

Finally, his gaze flickered over to Cas´ beaten up face, not meeting his eyes, though.

"You should take some rest until then", he added. His hand was already at the wooden doorframe when he added, "There´s an exit to the right of the backyard. It leads to a passage that ends right into the street we've walked up here." He slid the door open, and stepped out. Cas was sure he'd be gone, but then the tall man turned again, and this time, he looked right into Cas´ eyes.

"Be careful, Castiel", he said, voice low, and then the sliding door closed, and he was gone.

Castiel didn't leave his flat during the next two days. He didn't have many provisions at home, but as his face had turned into a red-bluish balloon anyway, and eating anything other than soup wasn't exactly an option, he lived off stock soup (the Japanese miso version), tea, and rice crackers. He didn't dare contact Sam personally; the whole situation somehow was falling apart, and honestly, he didn't know what to do...they'd have to wait for Monday, and the next round at the embassy. He only hoped Sam wasn't in danger because of his epic mess-up with Dean...would Dean know about a new recruit? Would he make the connection? Would he..._stop it. It´s useless, _he scolded himself; nevertheless, he didn't really sleep much, or eat much, or do much but stare out into the steadily falling rain, pace the room, replay everything he still remembered from his ...encounter..with Dean, and get a hard on, goosebumps from fear for everyone involved, or feel like screaming in frustration, or crying, in turns. He´d never been so glad the weekend was over, when Monday finally dawned.

His face was still a mess, of course. Rather greenish-blue by now, and the swelling had gone down; to make up for it, he sported black smudges under his eyes. His hat pulled low, and an umbrella to save him from too many curious glances, he hasted to the embassy early.


	16. Chapter 16

The shocked faces when he entered the US delegation´s room didn't really come as a surprise. The story he´d concocted (rain/dark/slippery stairway) brought him pitying glances and a few pats on the shoulder that made him wince (Dean´s fingers had left bruises there). Alistair looked at him sharply, frowned, and used the first possibility to pull him into the niche again.

"This doesn't have anything to do with our...arrangement, I hope? I got the message from Winchester Friday evening, and I must say I've never been glader to hear from the man. He especially praised your professionalism and ...how did he put it...sincerity."

"I fell, that´s all. I didn't want to mention the quantity of sake that was involved in the accident in front of everyone, but, well – it´s as dull as that. No Yakuza or secret organisations involved. Frustrating, I know..." Alistair scrutinized his face for another 20 seconds, but Cas´ performance seemed to have been convincing enough.

"Well, I'm glad to hear it. I could have never forgiven myself if I´d put you in the line of fire, so to speak. Now – good work, Novak, really, well done. If the Japanese stick to what Winchester told me, everything should be wrapped up withing a few days. It would be great if we have a treaty ready and signed by Saturday – you know, the big celebration during the Sanja Matsuri Festival, wouldn't that be great? Such a colorful supporting program, right?" Castiel noded tiredly. The lack of sleep already pulled at his nerves.

When the bell sounded, he shuffled to the conference room behind everyone else. He dreaded the inevitable moment when he would have to meet Dean. _How do I look at him? What do I say, if Alistair insists on meeting? Will I be able to stay cool? _Questions whirled through his head, making him dizzier and more distracted than he already was, and he was so lost in his thoughts, staring at the floor, that he didn't see the broad back in front of the entrance door until he was running straight into it.

"OUCH!" Smashing your already broken nose into solid muscle mass wasn't that good an idea. "I'm so sorr- " , he started, when he recognized the scent – this special scent he´d be addicted to for the rest of his life, as short as it might probably be. The person belonging to the back turned. Cas met the green eyes, unprepared for the expression of guilt and shock that flickered in them for a moment, nor for the hand Dean raised to Cas´ cheek in a kind of reflex. He stopped himself before he reached Cas, and the hand fell down at his side. His face was back to detached professional interest again.

"Castiel", he said, voice rough. "I´m sorry to see you in such ...bad shape. Let me know if I can do anything to ease your discomfort." His eyes bore into Cas´ without blinking.

"Oh, I ... that´s very kind of you to offer, but – well, it´s more a case of – hurt pride, and the deserved reward for stupidity and recklessness", he said coolly, staring straight back.

"I see", Dean murmured, looking down at his hands. He was even paler than the week before, Cas noticed, and his eyes looked as tired as Cas´ felt.

_Looks like he hasn't slept or eaten much either, _he thought. Dean looked up, and straightened his shoulders. "We might need to meet again for ... the mediation ... this evening", he said, all business. "I hope you are available, just in case the negotiations need a further ... push?"

Cas studied the beautiful, so carefully controlled face for a moment. Dean´s expression in the moment of orgasm came to his mind, finally free, and overflowing with emotions.

"Of course", he said briefly, nodded, and excused himself, slipping through the entrance to sit down at his place.

They made good process. By lunchtime, Alistair seemed his usual boisterous self again, and honestly surprised when Dean approached him.

"I would like to ask for another private meeting with your translator", he said in his cool, measured tone.

Alistair looked alarmed. "Is there a new problem? Should we re -" Dean raised his hand to stop him. "It´s nothing much, I can assure you. Just a few details...I believe it would be better to ease them away before we discuss the matter tomorrow morning. That way, they won´t even become problems, and no one needs to be concerned", he said, sounding perfectly reasonable.

"Of course, of course – that is, if Castiel - " He turned around, to find Castiel on his seat, watching them. "Would you agree to meeting Mr. Winchester again this evening, Castiel?" Cas looked at Dean´s impassioned face. "It will be my pleasure", he said drily.

Dean shot him a glance, but only nodded. "Perfect", he said, and left the room.

"Are you coming to lunch?", Alistair asked. Cas shook his head. "I´ll stay here and get some rest. These cheeks aren't really useful when it comes to chewing food right now", he said, and waited for his boss and everyone else to leave; then he went for one of the smaller offices down the corridor, where he knew a pretty comfortable sofa would guarantee a nice lie-down. He´d had serious difficulties keeping his eyes open for the last hour; and once on the sofa, he practically fell asleep as soon as his head met the armrest.

His dreams were confused, and full of blurred faces and dark stairways. Somewhere a bell was ringing, and he couldn't quite place it, there was some emergency, and he knew he had to save someone, someone with a carp tattooed on his back, a moving, living fish, and when he approached the person to warn him, the fish turned and talked...

"Castiel...Cas...wake up. Cas." He knew the carp´s voice, rough and dark colored – the man with the tattooed back finally turned, and grabbed Cas, shook him, and Cas gasped, because the man had no face, only a blurred patch...Cas fought his grip, he struggled to get free, and all the while the carp kept talking from the faceless man´s back and-

"Castiel! Wake up! It´s me! CAS!"

He opened his eyes, and the carp´s voice and the faceless man melted into Dean Winchester, bent over him, holding his hands down on the sofa. Cas stared up at him, confused, the dream still hanging in the room; Dean let go of his hands. "The bell", he said. "We should go back into the conference room."

Cas still didn't feel connected to reality. "What – what are you doing here?", he asked, sitting up.

"I was looking for you", Dean said, as if that was the most natural thing for him to do. "And I found you sleeping."

Cas frowned. "So you just – you watched me sleep or what?"

Dean smiled in an enigmatic way, and shrugged. "I didn't want to wake you...you looked exhausted. Well, you still do, to be honest."

"That´s creepy", Cas murmured. Dean shrugged again. It made him look much younger.

Cas sighed tiredly. "Dean...why do you want to meet today? Do you want to finish what you started?"

Dean looked up. "Finish -?" he looked confused. "No. No, I´d never...Castiel, you know I´m a member of a highly dangerous and efficient organisation. If I wanted to...`finish´ something, your body would be devoured by fish now, with no one the wiser."

Cas watched the other man with real interest. "So that´s how you usually dispose of bodies? Feed them to the fish?"  
>Dean´s face shut down. He didn´t answer. Cas waited for another minute, then he asked, "So?"<p>

Dean sighed. "What you said the other day...". He shoved his hand through his hair, messing up the perfectly combed parting. "I believe you ...what you said about meeting a man who claims to be my brother. But I am sure you have been tricked, and that he is a con man. My brother is dead." He got to his feet. "I want to meet this man though. And I hoped that you could possibly arrange a meeting?"

Cas froze. "Wait – you think Sam´s a fraud? That he´s playing you? Didn't you hear a word of what I told you when we met? Or were you so focused on beating me senseless that you missed the whole thing?" He was angry. Why didn't the damn man SEE what was in front of his eyes?

Dean shook his head. He looked like a stubborn child all of a sudden, and if the whole topic hadn't been so serious (life/death serious), Cas would have laughed out.

"If he is really my brother, and he can´t be, then he will have to bring proof. And if he isn´t..." His eyes glinted. The child was gone, and Cas found himself in front of the murderous mob member again.

"I can arrange a meeting", he said, jaw clenched. "But you have to promise something. You'll have to swear by everything that´s dear to you."

Dean cocked his head. "I´m listening."

"You won´t touch Sam. You won´t harm him, OK? And you won´t give the order to kill him, or harm him in any way. I need your guarantee...your word."

Dean watched him, face immobile. Seconds ticked away. Then he looked away, out of the window. "I can't give you that guarantee", he said, voice clipped.

"Then there will be no meeting", Cas said, and got up from the sofa."And if you plan on finding the man yourself, you can save your time. He is in ...a similar business than yours, and highly skilled, I hear. If he doesn't want to be found, he won´t be."

That got Dean´s interest. "This man – he´s member of an organisation? Which one? And that's proof enough it can't be my brother. Sammy would never – Sammy was a smart, sweet kid, a little bookish maybe, and he had – he saw good things in everyone. Brought home hurt animals he found in the park, for crying out loud. He´d never ..."

"While it was your childhood wish to become a high-rise member of the Japanese mafia?", Cas asked angrily. "Sam lost everyone he loved, too, Dean, and he had no new so called `family´ to wash his brain and turn him into their prince. He´s become what he is in search of revenge, and of you, and if you could at least try to get through the fog those Yakuza crooks created in your brain, you'd see that!" He hadn't even finished to talk when Dean slammed him against the wall, fist gripping his tie. Their noses were almost touching. Cold anger burned in his eyes. "No one talks about my family like that, not even you, Castiel, and God knows I've been lenient with you until now, but..." His grip around Cas´ tie tightened, constricting his airways. Cas felt the familiar twitch in his trousers, and with a part of his mind, the weirdly detached dispassionate one, he thought that it was sick to get turned on by it; but he was too angry to bother, and shoved the thoughts aside.

"Lenient?", he croaked, daring Dean with his eyes. "Go on, beat me again, or kill me, I don't care, but you know what, Dean? It won't change the fact that you are missing out the ONE possibility to set right the wrongs of your past, and punish those responsible for them! Not to mention get to know what´s left of your REAL family! But you're so wrapped up in your ... perfect Yakuza world you just won´t see what´s in front of your eyes!" They panted in each other´s faces, eyes blazing. Dean came so close Cas half expected him to kiss, _and I wouldn't mind, as sick as this whole thing between us might be, _he thought, but then Dean released his tie, and pushed Cas back against the wall.

"You are wrong", he said, emotion gone from his voice again. "You are the one who´s believing in fairy tales, Castiel." _Is he – is that pity in his voice?_, Cas wondered. He opened his mouth to protest, but Dean raised his hand to stop him.

"And if you were really sure about this – cheat´s – genuineness ...then why are you hesitating to give him the chance to prove himself to me? You're deluded, Castiel, maybe this story with your childhood friend has clouded your judgement." He reached for Cas´ cheek, traced the bruised skin from his hairline down to the chin with a gentle finger. His voice was softer when he spoke again, and almost a little sad. "I still can't figure out what you are gaining by all of this", he said. "Such fire burning for people you barely know..." Dean´s thumb caressed Cas´ lips, ghosted over the crack his fist had left there... "I almost wish I could keep you.", he added, the hunger back deep in his eyes.

And at that point, Cas had enough.

"You know what? I´m done", he spit out. "Sam can believe in you as much as he wants, and hope to find the big brother he loved and adored, but honestly? I think it would have been better if you´d been killed back then, so he could keep his good memory of you. ´Cause what he'll find is just one big cold asshole of a mobster, with no mind of his own, just a – a puppet being played by its puppeteer, who takes its strings for the care of a family, and is happy to dance after someone else´s mind." He pushed a surprised Dean back violently, and straightened himself up. "And to ease your mind on that, too – I'm not gaining anything by helping Sam, if you don't count bruises and an early death, and hell, one good fuck with just the man who´s probably going to off me because he´s too scared to even try to get out of his cage! Because that´s where you are, Dean – still in the cage your new `family´ has put you in, and we can open the cage door for you as wide as it goes, you'll never get out, never! Because you want to stay inside and be handled like the good watchdog you are!"

_OK, maybe I´ve gone too far now, _Cas thought, when Dean´s body slammed into his, almost toppling them both over, jamming Cas´ back against the wall again. Dean´s face was inches away from Cas´, he couldn't even see him clearly any more, but he got the cold fury he emanated anyway.

"Watch. Your. Mouth.", he pressed out between his clenched teeth, one hand on Cas´ throat, one in his hair. And, well, that was exactly what Cas did, he watched Dean´s full lips, as good as he could from that angle, watched them close in on him, and then he freed one arm, and grabbed Dean's neck, and pushed him the last inch, finally meeting his lips, diving into his mouth with his tongue immediately. He felt Dean´s fingers clench in his hair, around his throat, but only for a moment; then both his hands were at the sides of Cas´ face, holding him, and both their tongues were dancing, twirling, claiming each other´s mouths.

Dean´s body was pressed against his, and yes, Cas felt him hot and hardening against his own groin, trousers already tightening around his swollen dick..._this is so wrong, _he thought, _wrong, wrong wrong, but why does it feel so good, then? Never...never...that good...that free..._

Dean let a moan turn into a suppressed whine, and stepped back. He still grabbed Cas´ face, and they were joined at the lips, but his warmth and the pressure were gone, and Cas moaned in protest...then Dean pulled away fully, and stared into Cas´eyes, his hands were warm and trembled slightly, and Cas put his own hands over them to keep him there before he could take them away, too. Dean leant forward until their fronts met. They stood like that, hot and sweaty and panting again, and Cas thought, _how can this ever turn into something ...normal...it has started crazy, and it will end like that...either we'll love each other, or we´ll be each other´s death. Or both, who knows, everything´s just turned over and whirling through the air, who can tell where all the parts of our lives will land?_

"Cas", Dean whispered, and Cas could hear the desperation in his voice he´d seen in his face in the tea house. "I can't...I can't." Cas stroked Dean´s hands, then he raised his hands to Dean´s face, and cupped it. "Yes you can", he whispered back, angry voice gone. "You can at least try, Dean."

He felt the other man shiver. _How can he live with this, _Cas wondered, _with these two parts of him that don't fit together at all, he´s like two mismatched persons clamped together into one body._

Dean shook his head slowly. Their fronts rubbed against each other.

"I can´t...Cas, if I – if anything of what you told me is true...if they...if..." His breath faltered. "How can I live with the knowledge that I – that they..." His voice faded away.

"Dean." Cas thumbs caressed the perfect cheekbones, the bluish skin under his closed eyes.

"It is true. You'll see that if you give me – give me and Sam the chance to show you. And there is only one way you´ll be able to live with...what happened since you were taken from your home." His fingers found the soft hair, stroking it back gently. _How come I want to slam this man against something violently one minute and caress him like a ..like he´s a lost child, the other? Maybe I´m two-in-one, too. Maybe that´s why we´ve ended up together. Takes one to know one..._

"You pay them back, Dean. We all will, Sam, and you, and me. Make them pay for every single day they kept you believing all this bullshit. We can bring them down for what they did, but...we need you on board, Dean, it won´t work without you, and it wouldn´t make any sense anyway. Sam came here to save you, but if you ...don´t want to be saved...he´ll fail. Heck, then he´s already lost, and we´re all dead. Well, there never was much chance to survive this, anyway."

Dean took Cas´ hands in his, and carefully put them down; he kept holding them, though, even when he stepped back a little. He studied Cas´ face, like he couldn´t make him out.

"You are...a mystery, Castiel Novak", he murmured. He looked calm now, but pensive, and let go of Cas´ hands. He fished a small silver comb out of his breast pocket, and combed back his tangled hair. He offered it to Cas then, eyebrows raised in a silent question; but Cas shook his head.

Dean put it back, straightened his shirt, and perfectly tailored sakko.

"Set up that meeting, please", he said calmly."You are right – it would be cowardly not to try." He looked at his watch, and raised his eyebrows again. "They´ll probably have sent a search group after us by now." He looked up. They both weren´t smiling.

"I´ll be at the tea house tonight at ...seven? If you can arrange it, come. If you can´t ...I´ll just wait for an hour, and be on my way then. We can try again...tomorrow." He went to the door, and turned back once more.

"Be sure not to be followed", he said, nodded a good bye, and opened the door.

"And, Cas -"

Cas felt something like a smile pull at the corners of his mouth. "I know – be careful."

Dean looked at him, green eyes bright, and left.

Cas tried to flatten down his hair, opened his tie and knotted it anew, and made an attempt on straightening his crumpled clothes.


	17. Chapter 17

The afternoon was filled with work, and still Cas got the feeling time had somehow slowed down. It was almost 6 when he finally opened the door to his apartment, all the way home scanning his surroundings, studying cars, and trying not to look to paranoid doing it. His flat was dark, but again, he knew Sam was inside as soon as he stepped over the threshold. He switched on the lamp made of rice paper, and found Sam sitting on his bed, leaning against the wall.

"Hi, Sam."

Sam stared at Cas's multicolored face for a few seconds, and nodded. "Cas."

"You got my message... any problems?"

"There´s a car at the end of the road. The men inside are Japanese. They are too unsuspicious to be unsuspicious, if you know what I mean...and there´s two more men positioned at each end of the market place."

Cas blanched. "Dammit...are they...Yakuza?"

Sam shrugged. "Could be. Could also be they are form the CIA. Could also be Dean sent them to protect you." Cas digested this. "Huh", he said.

"Did they see you?"

Sam chuckled. "Cas, I wasn´t born is my world, remember?"

Cas fell into his low chair.

"Dean wants to meet you", he said flatly.

"WHAT? When?" Sam sat up straight, excitement in his face.

"Tonight, seven o´clock, at the tea house where he- where we..."

"Where he gave you that?", Sam asked, indicating Cas's face. Cas shrugged. Sam´s face darkened. "I`ll have to punch him good for that."

Cas shook his head tiredly. "Sam, did you – have you ever thought about what to do if Dean – if he just doesn´t believe you? Or just – doesn´t WANT to leave his world here?"

Sam watched him carefully. The excitement was gone from his eyes.

"Cas, did – what happened? Besides him being a violent dick to you, and obviously brainwashed?"

Cas looked up at him. "I talked to him today, and – I think he´ll have a really hard time to wrap his head around the fact that you are alive, that you are YOU, that Yakuza isn´t the warm caring family who saved him, and that there´s a way out of this worth taking. I – it was pretty frustrating, really, and then there´s the fact that..." He hesitated.

Sam waited. "What!"

"Sam, he...sometimes I get the impression he...he might be schizoidor something. It´s like he switches personality in front of your eyes, and it – dammit, it scares the shit out of me. And I think I'm falling for him nevertheless, and THAT scares me even more."

Sam sat bent forward, elbows on his bony knees. He looked at the floor, the threadbare rug.

"I never figured it would be easy", he murmured. "And if I – if we fail – well, I don't think there will be much to worry about then." He rubbed his front. "I´m inside Yakuza now, officially, so it´s good he knows about me, and we meet, before I run into him there. My boss, Edo, he seems Dean´s first and worst opponent as far as I understand it, and I hope I can use that in some way." He looked up. "We´re running out of time, Castiel, our scheme will blow up eventually, so we should try to get Dean on board as soon as possible."

Cas nodded. "The official celebration of the treaty´s signing will be Friday, right before the big Festival. The delegations will be invited to participate at an entertainment program together, watch the processions and everything."

Sam nodded slowly. "Edo told me about it – there´s a tradition there, men showing off their tattoos, and obviously, a group of Yakuza men takes part in it, too. He will be there, and a few other higher ups...he´s planning something, I got that, I just have to find out what. He trusts me, God knows why, so I guess – whatever it is, I´ll be involved somehow."

"You think he might – he´s plotting against Dean?"

Sam shrugged. "Would make sense. If Dean´s out of the way, Edo's next in row to follow up. And with the negotiations and all, he can blame the CIA. It was him who gave them the anonymoustips by the way, to have them take up his trail. He´s – he´s smart, Cas, and very ambitious. We sshouldn'tt underestimate him."

Cas sighed.

"Sam, I almost gave up today. When he – when Dean was so stubbornly holding on to Yakuza as his `family´, and just – the way he looked at me, like I was some...useful toy he´d dispose of once he...and then, when I finally got through to him somehow, he was this other man again, scared and confused and ...sweet. And I thought...I thought, dammit, he´s worth it. This guy in there is worth it all."

Sam stared at him for a while. A smile crept over his face, reached his eyes.

"Damn, you´re really falling for him", he said. Cas blushed.

Sam looked at his wristwatch.

"And now we should leave, if he´s waiting at the tea house for only one hour. With all the detours we´ll have to make to escape our surveillance detail, it´ll take us some extra time to get there."

"What if it´s a trap?"

Sam scanned the narrow passageway beyond them. Cas had never crossed half a city like that – climbing low walls, ducking under roofs, even running through houses two times, using backyards and lanes and alleys. _How on earth did Sam find all these ways?, _he wondered. Now, they stood on the low wall surrounding the backyard of a low building, leading directly to the back entrance of the tea house.

"We´ll play it cool", he said. "Dean is Yakuza, I am Yakuza, and I´ll just pass you as our man inside the US team. So...it´s just a nice Yakuza family chat in there. If Dean sells us out – well. We´ll see."

Cas fingered his nose. It started to shrink back into its usual form now, maybe a little crooked at a point where it had been smooth before Dean´s blow.

"Sam, if we get caught by Yakuza."

Sam looked at him. "Yes?"

"Can you just kill me? I don´t want to fall into their hands. I have a fairly good idea what they´ll do to people who want to play them. I´d rather die quick to be honest."

Sam glanced at him in the dim light. He nodded.

"OK", he finally said. "Let´s do this." He shook his head. "Dammit. I´m gonna meet my brother. Right now."

The narrow door was open, and they entered the backyard without seeing a living soul. They could hear low voices from the main house; there was light in the house at the back, mirrored in the large puddles on the yard´s wet ground. It had ceased to rain, and the air was heavy with humidity, leaving tiny drops of water on their hair and clothes.

Sam shot Cas a glance again. He nodded, and Sam pushed the gliding door to the side.

The room was lit with candles and a few paper lamps, which gave it a friendly, warm atmosphere. A dark figure leant against the wall, face in the shadows, posture elegant yet alert. Sam stepped into the room, and Cas silently closed the door behind them.

A few seconds passed, and then the dark shadow pushed itself off the wall, and stepped into the golden light.

Cas heard Sam´s breathing hitch. He just cwouldn'tt look at him though, because Dean...Dean looked so breathtakingly beautiful his heart clenched painfully, and he just stared at him...the warm light softened his features, made him look so much younger, but maybe it was also the fact that he didn't wear a tie and suit jacket, but only his white shirt, sleeves rolled up to the elbows. Cas could see the tattoos on his muscular lower arms, moving in the flickering light. Pictures from his dream ghosted through his mind, but he shoved them to the back energetically. Cas could almost feel the tension under the seemingly relaxed surface – this was a tiger ready to jump his prey any second.

Sam seemed mesmerized, Cas noticed, when he finally managed to tear his eyes from the green eyes, the shadows below the cheekbones, the perfectly chiseled chin.

Suddenly, Sam stepped forward. His hands were twitching, as if he had to suppress the urge to raise his arms.

"Dean", he croaked. "It´s me... Sam."

Dean remained completely still, staring at Sam, taking in his large frame, the broad shoulders, the long hair. He cocked his head slightly, squinting at the face. Sam was silent, waited motionless, like a man being approached by a shy animal.

Dean´s chuckle came as a total surprise, and Cas didn´t even believe he'd actually heard it at first.

"You can´t be Sammy", he said, and it sounded almost relieved. "Sammy was - "

"An awkward, skinny 12 year old wearing too big glasses? With a collection of Superboy comics in a box he personally built with the help of his big brother?"

Dean´s head jerked up. The relief was gone from his face, and he squinted his eyes.

"How can you...how do you know about the box!", he whispered.

"You told me to sand it with paper three times before painting it, but I was too restless, and skipped the last, finest sandpaper part. And then the surface wouldn´t become as smooth as it should. You painted Superboy´s sign on it for me anyway, but you said it didn't make sense to invest any work at all if I lost my spirit at the last steps, ´cause it would make all the previous work worthless."

Dean was frozen to the spot. He stared at Sam, but seemed to be seing something entirely different.

"Sam glued a list of all of Superboy´s super powers on the inside", he murmured.

Sam grinned. "Super strength, heat vision, x-ray vision, telescopic and microscopic vision, flight, invulnerability, and super-speed sufficient to travel through both interstellar space and time", he recited, like praying some litany.

Dean seemed dazed. He spoke slowly when he went on, as if his mind was far away.

"And I always teased you about it...I liked Batman more, because -"

"Because saving the world is lame if you´ve got all those superpowers, but Batman is just a human being using his brain and body to do it, and that´s far more impressing."

"And he had a cool ride. Plus I think I used the word awesome", Dean murmured.

"That would make sense, as you used it a lot in general."

Cas watched them staring at each other. A longing had crept into Dean's eyes when they scanned Sam´s face again. But then he took a step back.

"It can´t be", he whispered. "Sam is dead. You must have found that box."

His eyes turned hard.

"What do you want from me! Money? A place in Yakuza? Cas here -", he shot a glance at Cas, and he shivered at the contempt in it – "told me you´re in the business already. Should have chosen a different road to get to me, boy. Weaseling your way into my mind by telling me all those sappy old childhood stories – well planned, but you got it wrong, my friend. My family´s long gone, and you know what? I don´t care. I can´t bring my mother and brother back from the dead, and I feel nothing but contempt for my father. I hope he burns in Hell. You chose the wrong pressure point, sorry to disappoint you."

Cas felt despair rise in his chest. _Here we are, _he thought. _Dr. Jekyll has left the building, and Mr. Hyde has taken over._

But Sam didn't seem taken aback. He stepped forward again, closing in on Dean. Cas saw the muscles in Dean´s neck tense.

"Dean", Sam said, voice calm. "Dad looked for you for years. He rented a freaking storage room for all the material he´d collected, and when he couldn´t find you, or go against the people who did that to you..and murdered Mom...it killed him. Literally."

"You´re lying", Dean pressed out between his teeth.

Sam shook his head. "I´m not. You've been lied to, Dean." He raised his hands in a helpless gesture.

"You don´t want to believe me, I get that. But I AM Sam. It was me who broke that model plane of yours, the one you spent days building? The Curtis Warhawk? I never admitted to it back then, but I took it off the hook to play with it when you were at baseball practice, and of course it slipped my hands when I tried to hook it back to the ceiling. And I wanted to study the little pilot anyway, so when the window fell out, I pulled him off his seat, and – well, the rest of the part went with it."

Sam huffed. "I was – mortified. And I thought you´d rip my head off. And when you came home and found the shattered pieces on the floor -I knew that you knew it had been me, and you were so angry. But I – I just couldn't tell you the truth, and I knew it made you sad." Dean´s face ... _he´s getting through, _Cas thought. _Sam is getting through to him._

A tiny flame of hope flickered inside his chest.

"And then you didn't throw the broken parts away, but built something new with it. And you gave it to me... you said it´s called Franky, which is short for -"

"Frankenstein´s plane", Dean croaked.

They were silently staring at each other. Cas felt like an intruder into their world.

_That´s it . The turning point. We get to him now, or never._

"Pull up your shirt, and show me your back", Dean finally said, voice so rough it hurt listening to it. Sam looked at him for a moment, then he nodded. He shot Cas a reassuring smile. "I got a tattoo now, but it doesn´t cover the mole", he said, turning his back to Dean. Cas watched fascinated as Sam turned, and held his shirt up so Dean could face his left side. The writing already familiar to Cas sat above his left hip, "Non timebo mala". Dean reached out and traced the fonts, looking surprised.

"That´s...that´s what Dad had engraved on his gun", he said slowly.

"Yes", Sam said. Dean´s fingers wandered to Sam´s back, and stopped. Cas had noticed the large, oddly shaped mole there before ...it reminded him of a dog´s head.

"The sign of the Great Wa-ya, wolf of wolves", Sam said. "You told me stories about him. Hundreds I think."

"And you always asked for one more..." Dean´s voice was almost inaudible.

His arm fell down at his side. Sam turned back to look at him, and pulled his shirt down again.

"It´s really you", Dean whispered. "You are – you're really Sammy."

He stumbled back against the wall, eyes widening. "They didn´t kill you. But how...how did you..."

"One of the men grabbed me and punched my head against the wall when I wanted to run after the thug who dragged you out. Hit me hard a few times. I passed out I guess...maybe they thought I was dead. I only woke up when Dad...when he found Mom. The sound he made..." Sam´s voice died.

Cas's eyes darted from him to Dean. The man looked as if all energy had left him...lifeless, and so pale Cas half expected him to faint. His freckles stood out against the almost bluish skin, and Cas felt the urge to touch them, trace them..hold the man who´d just had his life turned upside down for the second time, all his beliefs, even his memories.

_How can he ever...ever trust anyone again. How can he even trust himself, _he thought, glancing at Sam briefly. He could see it cost Sam dearly not to plunge forward and hug his brother, his fingers twitched, and he seemed to bite down on his tongue.

"Dean", he finally choked out.

Dean moved eventually. He glided down the wall, as if his legs didn't support him any more, face blank; when he´d reached the floor, he hugged his legs, pulled them close, and buried his head on his knees. It was such a childlike posture ... a kid hiding from a scary reality, or shutting himself inside his own world as the real one wasn't bearable any more... Cas jerked when Sam moved, too, and stepped over to Dean, sitting down next to him, knees pulled up too, head leant back against the wall. He didn't touch Dean. Cas sank down on one of the woven mats around the low table.

"We wanted to go watch the game later", Dean suddenly croaked, talking into his legs. "Dad´s precinct against the 45th. Dad couldn't play because of his bad knee."

Cas watched him straighten up. Dean´s eyes were squeezed shut, and he rested his head against the wall like Sam.

"Mom had already made sandwiches. And pie. Her famous Grandma Campbell family recipe. It was all packed up and ready, basket and blankets and everything. We were only waiting for Dad to come home." There was only a faint trace of sound in his voice, mostly it was a hoarse whisper, rasping. "I heard someone knock at the door, and I wondered if Dad had forgotten his keys again and couldn't get in. I remember Mom laughing when she opened. She said something like `Oh John, not again...´. And then someone said, `Good Evening, Mrs. Winchester. We are very sorry to intrude.´ They were so damn polite..."

Cas saw Dean open his eyes, staring at something in the past.

"I think Mom figured something was wrong, because she was already halfway to the kitchen when they got to her. I was just coming out of our room to see who was at the door. That was when one of the men grabbed her hair from behind, and jerked her head back, and slit her throat." Dean bent forward again, resting his elbows on his knees, heels of his hands pressed against his eyes. It looked as if he wanted to erase something from his memory. "She saw me standing in the doorway, frozen. She looked at me, and there was this...sound...like she tried to say something...it was... gurgling ...and when she fell to the floor, I finally could move again...I ran back into the room, and slammed the door shut, and I...I think I tried to shove the drawer in front of it. But of course, they were much faster. And stronger."

Sam stirred, watching his brother, face twisted. "You darted back into the room like – like you´d gone mad or something. And you shouted at me, and started to jam yourself against the drawer. I remember that all the stuff you´d built fell off, and my cups. `Get into the cupboard, Sammy, hide! Hide! Now!" You were panicking, and it scared the shit out of me, because you – you never panicked. Never...but I crawled into the cupboard. Not that it helped... I could see the men shove the door open like nothing. One of them punched your face, and then your stomach, and you went down without any sound."

Sam closed his eyes. "And then they dragged you out, and I – I couldn't just let them take you, I – I burst out of the cupboard and screamed that they should let you go...and that was when I saw Mom on the floor, and all that blood, and...then the other man slammed my head against the wall, and all went dark."

They sat in silence after that.

Cas's back started to protest against the uncomfortable way he was crouching on the floor; finally, he got up, and sat down on Dean´s other side, leaning back with a sigh.

"Dean", he said.

Sam looked at him, eyebrows raised. Dean raised his head, staring at Cas with a face so blank Cas went cold inside.

"Dean, may I ask you something? If you don't want to answer...just don´t."

Dean heaved his shoulders up almost imperceptibly. He sighed, and leant his head back again, eyes closed. "Shoot", he sighed.

"What happened once they´d taken you from your home?"

He saw Sam flinch, and throw him a wild glance, but he looked back calmly. They´d have to get through this now. They couldn't go on with their plan as long as there were still mines hidden under their very feet.

Dean didn´t answer for so long that Cas already gave up on getting any response at all.

He almost jerked when Dean suddenly spoke.

"It was dark. All the time. I was only half conscious when they dragged me down the stairs, and then one of them punched my temple so hard I passed out. When I woke up, I was locked into the trunk of a car, and my wrists and ankles were bound together. The drive was pretty rough. I think I puked a few times."

He paused a minute. "They put a black hood over my head when we stopped, so I couldn't see anything from then on. I could tell we were at a harbor, and they dragged me up into the ship, and down many of those steep stairways. Guess we were pretty deep down in the ship´s belly when they threw me in some sort of cabin and closed the door. And that was it for a pretty long time. They hadn't removed the hood, or the restraints, so I couldn't move much. I found out that the room was tiny. I tried to turn in a circle, lying on the floor, and bumped my head all the time." He fell silent again for so long Cas glanced over at Sam. Sam´s face was stony, but his eyes glistened.

"I peed myself", Dean murmured. "Couldn´t help it."

Cas pictured 16 year-old Dean, lying on the floor inside a moving ship, bound and blindfolded, and with the picture of his dying mother in his head. He felt sick.

"I got really thirsty", Dean went on. "My stomach rumbled a lot, but I think I couldn't have eaten anything anyway...but my mouth and throat went so dry it hurt. It really hurt. I got pretty dizzy then, I can't really say what happened...but at some point, someone opened the door I guess, and hosed me down with sea water. It was so cold I – I ...but it woke me up a little. They pulled off my blindfold, but it was dark anyway. They let me drink." He licked his lips, as if remembering the feeling. "I've never... water has never tasted that good." He stared down at his hands. "That´s how it was from then on. They left the blindfold off, but there wasn't any difference as it was pitch dark down there. And as I was drenched, it became pretty cold, too. At least I wasn't hungry anymore. They came with some water now and then, though. I think I slept a lot. And I think we got in a storm once. I rolled from one wall to the other for so long...and with the bound hands and feet, it was... I think I passed out again after a while. Next thing I remember, we were in a harbor, and the blindfold was back, and someone carried me to a car...I don't know...there's times I can´t ..like holes. But eventually I woke up in a ...a cell. More like a dungeon. It was practically the ship again, only they´d finally removed those bindings. Guess I was so weak by then I couldn't have run if they´d left the doors open and turned their backs."

"But you – you must have been starving by then!", Cas said. "The passage from America is two weeks minimum...rather three!"

Dean shrugged. "I couldn't even stand up properly. But then that was probably because of being tied up for so long, too. My muscles were sore and cramped all the time. But the – the worst was ... when they..." His voice faded away. Cas watched him squeeze his eyes shut forcefully, and pull his knees closer.

"There were two men, they brought water, and then some food eventually. And they always ...they yelled at me, asking questions again and again, but I – I couldn´t understand them. I didn't even know it was Japanese by then. But they just kept yelling, and each time I couldn't answer, they beat me, or cut me, or...or..." He took a shaky breath. "I wanted to die. So badly."

Sam moved his hand in Dean´s direction, but stopped short just before touching him.. Cas could see the wet trails running down his cheeks.

"And then this other man came", Dean went on. "He talked to me in English, and said he'd take me with him, and if I redeemed myself, I could be part of his family. He had me carried out on a gurney, and they brought me to a house in the mountains, and...I got well again after a while. There was another man who taught me...Japanese, and fighting, and more. School stuff. I was there for more than two years. The other man - Amaya...he came now and then to visit, and was happy to see I learned so fast. After a year or so, he brought two Japanese boys my age, and they stayed, the master taught us all three. It was...it was good to have someone else there." Dean´s face was calm again. "After about three years, they took me to Tokyo, and sent me to business school. I was – I'd never thought that, but I was pretty good. And Amaya was proud... when I got my degree, he told me I could work in one of his companies. So I did. It was a good time. I worked hard, and in the evening I went to training at a Dojo belonging to the company. It was two more years before he...Amaya..told me about Yakuza. I hadn't known until then." Dean huffed. "And I – I didn't care. They´d saved me from those bastards, and gave me so much, they – they gave me a life. So when Amaya said it was time to become a real member of the family, I was ... I was thrilled. And excited. He had told me more about the men who´d taken me, and about...Dad, and what he´d done. He showed me pictures...documents. I was..." He rubbed his front tiredly. "I was so angry. It was like...being eaten from the inside, you know? But Amaya said I had to use my anger to give me strength to fight those responsible for what had happened. And that by working hard for his family, I´d get there...get my chance. So I did."

Sam leaned forward, taking off his glasses, and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

"You never doubted his words?", he asked.

Dean looked at him uncomprehendingly. "Why would I?", he asked. " He´d been good to me. And he showed me proof." He glanced at his hands again.

"He is the obasan. And I am honored by his interest in me."

Cas and Sam exchanged a look.

"Dean", Sam said hesitantly. Dean looked up. _It´s unnerving to look into an unreadable face, _Cas thought. _I can understand my fellow Americans at the embassy now._

"You can see how it was all one sick plan? How they used you to ... to deride Dad´s efforts to bring them down? They turned you into one of them, their weapon, and that was maybe the worst punishment of all. Worse than killing Mom."

Dean´s face was controlled. He straightened his shoulders. "I need to get some information. To be sure... who to blame." He scrambled to his feet, and Sam and Cas hastily got up, too. Dean rolled down his sleeves, and grabbed his jacket from the sideboard. He looked pensive. "I still can't...", he started, but didn't finish the sentence.

"Dean", Sam said urgently. "I can give you all the proof you want, for this despicable way they tricked you into ..this. But we have to get you out of their claws, first. And destroy them."

Dean looked at him as if he was a madman.

"Destroy Yakuza?", he asked, chuckling disbelievingly. "Sammy, do you have ANY idea how huge this organisation already is? How well organized? If you're lucky, we can harm one little branch, and that´s it. And we'll have the rest of them on our heels for the rest of our lives."

Sam stepped forward, and grabbed Dean´s arm. Cas caught his breath. He could see Dean tense, and look at Sam´s hand on his sleeve; but he didn't shake him off, or tear his arm away, or punch him. _Well, that´s something,_ Cas thought.

"I know that, Dean. But if we can hurt those who did this to us...make them pay for it...it´s a sign. We need to show them they can't just do things like that and go away unpunished. And Cas and I, we have a plan that might hurt them more than it looks like now, on the long run. We've already gathered lots of information to hand over to the authorities...it will slow Yakuza down immensely, and cost them dearly. With you on board, we can hurt them even more." Sam looked at Cas for support. Cas stepped closer, and for the first time since they´d entered the tea room, Dean looked at him. Something flickered in Dean's eyes.

"My innocent little translator", he murmured, and it sounded tired. "I should have known you were too good to be true."

Cas bristled, and in the corner of his eye, he saw Sam frown, and release Dean´s arm.

"Dean", he said, stepping even closer. _I have to make him trust me now, or he'll never be able to, _he thought a little desperately. He grabbed both of Dean´s upper arms, and felt the muscles tense immediately. Dean´s face was blank.

"What do you want from me, Cas", he asked, voice rough. His eyes were on Cas's mouth.

"I want you", Cas simply said.

Dean´s head jerked up, and his eyes widened in surprise for a moment.

"What I said the other day...I meant it", Cas murmured. "It´s never been like that before."

Dean´s eyes bore into his, _he´s looking for the trap, the hook, the scheme, _Cas thought.

When Cas raised his hands to cup Dean´s face, he didn't flinch though. Cas's thumbs caressed his cheekbones, down to his lips..._so gorgeous...so inviting..._and Cas closed in on Dean until they were chest to chest, and kissed him. Soft, and chast, compared to the wild violent sucking and biting they´d mostly dove into so far. Dean´s eyes fluttered shut, and Cas felt some of the tension leave his body. When he ran out of breath, he kept his hands on the sides of Dean´s head, and leant his front against the other man´s.

"I want you, Dean", he repeated.

They stood like that for a while...Cas heard Dean´s wristwatch again, tick...tick...tick...

Then Dean took Cas's hands with his own, and pulled them off his face. He stepped back, and looked at them both, eyes serious.

"Tell me about your plan", he said.


	18. Chapter 18

"Sanja Matsuri, the festival - do you know about it?", Edo asked, looking at Sam. It had been two hours that Sam was sitting with him, drinking. He had called Sam after being informed that Sam had 'closed' yet another account, which in translation meant that he´d successfully threatened another shopkeeper in Ginza to make sure he paid Edo - or else, the next time he wouldn't miss in his gunshot.

"The Shrine Festival? Not really...but I heard it´s pretty colorful and energetic."

Edo chuckled. "Energetic...yes, you can say that." He sipped at his warm sake. "Our organisation takes part in it. We have got our own shrine. Forty of us will be carrying it through town...for everyone to see how powerful we´ve become." His lips turned up into an unpleasant smile. "In the official version, we are only one of the more powerful trading companies representing their district and paying their respects. Your fellow Americans, for example...and this bunch of useless spies your government sent over to...check things out" He chuckled again, and Sam could tell Edo was pretty drunk already. His mind went back to the late afternoon...how he´d been summoned to his new "boss" ...

As Sam was leaving the store, provisions in hand, the evening news came on the single TV in the store front of a small houseware shop. Three or four people had crowded in front of it, watching.

The US-Japanese trade negotiations had gone through smoothly and Japanese firms had a lot to rejoice about. _Castiel...I´ll have to talk to him as soon as possible. It´s showtime... _someone touched his arm lightly. Sam spun around. The people around him turned, curious at the sudden movement ...and scattered. Within a moment, he stood in front of the shop alone with the small Japanese man. _Do they recognize he´s Yakuza? How? He looks like any normal guy to me, _he wondered. _But then...maybe he´s one of those who accompany the likes of myself ... paying visits to our ...clients._

"Boss wants to see you. Go to Kabuchio now." There was urgency in the voice of the thug approaching him. Sam nodded, and watched the man hurry around the next corner. He took a moment to orientate himself... Kabuchio. The District of Pleasure...whore houses, gaming parlours, drinking establishments. He smiled without humor. _Fits, _he thought. He turned, and walked towards the main street, where he would find a cab.

Sam watched the houses of the infamous district pass by as the cab brought him to the corner of the street where he´d find one of Yakuza´s biggest establishments... he could see it in its full glory. Bright lights announcing that they were open for business, although there wasn´t much going on at this time of the day. From pachinko parlors to love hotels, the district had it all. Sam left the cab, paid the driver, and started to walk past the few early morning customers. His height, and the fact he wasn´t Japanese, drew some attention; but the men looking out for clients for the whores knew better than to approach him. It was already known he was part of "The Family"...

The economy was booming, and Yakuza wanted to make sure that they got their fair share of it. Sam passed one of the larger houses, brightly lit and well kempt, and stood in front of the hotel adjacent to it. A doorman nodded at him somberly, and opened the door. Inside Edo's hotel, the early morning funeral home quiet was replaced with the merriment and laughter of the night. Sam made his way upstairs, to Edo´s private rooms, and smiled at the guard who smiled back thinly.

"Not here - go to the terrace." Sam had felt a little weird, but continued upstairs toward the terrace. As he reached the last set of stairs, the door at the end opened, and a guy almost rolled out of it, stumbling, and then fell, crashing onto the stairs, landing at Sam's feet. "Don't go in there...he's gone crazy", the man croaked, wiping blood from his mouth... Sam watched him scramble to his feet, and walk down the stairs, supporting himself against the wall. _If you´re still alive, it can´t be that bad, _he thought, feeling no sympathy for the thug.

Sam ignored the warning with a shrug, and continued to walk upstairs. He grabbed the already open door and entered.

"Ah! Sam, my only productive worker. So nice to see you", a drunken Edo crooned from the sitting area at the far end of the terrasse, raising his glass in a salute. He was wearing just a shirt, with his front buttons open to show his cleavage, sleeves rolled up. "These guys are useless; one job I give them, and they screw it up. I told them to provide those secret service people with information on Junko, and what happened?" Everyone else around them looked down. Sam felt a little surreal, the mood of almost deadly silence upstairs and the merriment downstairs were complete opposites of each other.

"How did the deal pull through?" Edo yelled at them once again. Sam only now completely comprehended the situation. He remembered Castiel telling him about the talks and how the embassy had employed him for the one on one talks... with Dean...It seemed that it had worked, going from what he´d seen on that TV screen earlier, and telling from Edo´s mood, it also meant that all of Edo's best laid plans now lay waste. "Get out - all of you!"

When Sam made a move to leave, he added, "Not you, Vincent... You stay." Everyone else filtered out of the terrace. "Vincent, this has been a terrible week...", Edo whined.

He ordered sake. More sake.

Two hours later, Sam watched the increasingly drunk Edo carefully.

At Edo´s question, coming as a surprise after the man´s constant drunk ramble and muttering , Sam snapped out of his memories.

"The festival? I have some vague ideas... It´s about those three men who founded Japanese Buddhism, right? "  
>Edo waved his hand dismissively. "Good, good ... but that is not what I am talking about. I meant do you know of the ceremony in the festival?" Edo had begun to seriously slur now. "Junko is going to be there. I hate that; he will actually be allowed to touch our carriage... the highest of honors for such a...a..." Sam watched Edo´s face turn red with anger. "Not just that I've heard Amaya´s plans to make him waka-gashira, first lieutenant, a position no...foreigner... should ever get. I've worked as hard as him for the family, but why is he getting all that? Position, honor – even Amaya´s approval and respect, which is so hard to earn! He´s nothing more than...a toy, taken by us to prove a point...and to be thrown away after having our fun with him! He must have bewitched the oba san, with his green eyes and..." Sam stirred. If Edo started to spill his secrets like that, it could be dangerous to be the one listening for too long. His boss tried to take another swig of wine from his glass, finding it empty, and finally took the sake bottle to drink directly from it.<p>

"I was so close, asking you to kill Yoshiro and making sure the CIA had all the information on him but he goes ahead - and takes the damn deal!"  
>Sam wondered how Castiel had managed to pull that, and more importantly, what had Castiel managed to get back in return.<p>

He almost missed the sound of someone entering the terrace.

"He's a real bastard, you know. A ruthless man who cares for no one." Sam turned around to see the source of the voice.

"Ah, Kenji, glad to know you are here." Edo smiled, his lips pressed together, suppressing a belch.  
>"Sam, meet Kenji. He is my right hand - and Kenji - this is Vincent Smith, our new American ...associate. Kenji, you can trust him. You have my permission to speak freely here." Kenji scrutinized Sam with squinted eyes. He oozed suspicion, but nodded briefly.<p>

"Tell him about our plan", Edo murmured, already half asleep in his stuffed chair.

The day that Sam had dreaded arrived... but somehow, waking up he was more relaxed than he´d expected. He soon found the reason for it, smelling a wonderful scent of lilies in the niche where he usually slept on the boat... As he tried to move, something stirred on top of him. Sam opened his eyes and saw Kiyoshi, sleeping peacefully on his chest. He got worried; he had no recollection of how she had ended up here on the bed. He remembered that last night had been her fourth night since the time he had captured her. He was still clueless as to what he should do with her. The past few days had been rough on her. She had been awfully quiet and distraught. She refused to eat practically anything and would spend most of her time just staring out of the window.

Sam was mostly outside, running errands for his new boss, or plotting with Edo as to how to finish Dean. He had realized that when the time came, Sam would have to blow his cover to protect Dean. Meanwhile the news from Castiel was not so good. He had informed him that Dean was very loyal to his new family, and had clearly been brainwashed by the Yakuza. Dean firmly believed that Sam had died alongside his mom, and wouldn´t believe Cas ... _yeah, he´s always been such a stubborn guy, _Sam thought.

On the other hand - the more he saw Kiyoshi, the guiltier he felt. The whole situation became increasingly complicated...the evening before, when Sam had finally found some free time, he had called on Castiel.

"Hey, how are you?"  
>"I'm good. What about you? And how's the girl - is she still alive?"<br>"Castiel, everything is fine. She's ok, but I honestly don't know what to do with her. I cannot send her home ´cause the uncle is there, the one who wanted to sell her to Yakuza´s whorehouses... and I don't think she can manage on her own. I mean - not since I told her that her father was dead."  
>"Hmmm... Well I guess you are stuck with her, for a while at least. We´ll think of something, Sam. Just ... just one problem at the time, right? Anyways - I have to be going. The talks are about to begin. We´re reaching the final details ...everything´s on track so far."<br>Sam hung up the phone and walked out of the booth. He drove back to the docks, deep in thought ... Kiyoshi might not be the biggest of thier problems, but it was one he had in front of his eyes, and inside his mind, way too much. Finally approaching his boat, he saw smoke coming out of his boathouse. It billowed out of the entrance, an acrid smell filling the air.

"Dammit..."

He ran towards the boat, yanked open the door, and then just stood in the doorway for a second. There was smoke everywhere. He covered his mouth and nose and went inside.

"Kiyoshi! Are you here? Kiyoshi!"

Kiyoshi was standing in the tiny kitchen area, staring at a burning pot, a faraway look on her face, smoke wafting around her.

"Kiyoshi! Dammit, what -" She looked up, like in trance, and blinked. Her eyes were watering. She started to cough violently.

Sam grabbed a towel, gripped the glowing pot, removed it from the flame, and threw it into the sink, dousing the hot iron with water from the bucket he used for cooking and washing the dishes. Then he opened the window for the smoke to be released. Using the towel, he managed to get most of it out within a few seconds. Kiyoshi just stood there, watching him with polite interest. He caught her hand and pulled her up the few steps to the entrance, and outside. The fresh sea air was heavenly.

"What were you thinking? You know how dangerous that was? Kiyoshi - suicide is not a way out of this. You can´t – that´s no way to honor your father, your family. You didn´t survive Yakuza just to end your life like that."

Before he could say anything more she placed a hand on his mouth.

"Sam ... I was making soup for you and me. I did not know how to work the stove".

As she removed her hand Sam was speechless. He looked into her eyes and said "uh...", but she looked up at him and laughed. _Is she going crazy?, _he wondered. _Is everything too much for her? Losing her father, her family...almost being forced to whore herself out to save those she loves? _He looked down at the minuscule girl, so fragile, yet stronger than he'd expected.

When her smile faltered, he tried to look as reassuring as possible, smiling as well. _I'll play along ... maybe it was an accident after all. Although... her face in there...so far away... _Suddenly, the guilty subconscious took over and he turned away. After a moment, he glanced back at her with his usual stern, unreadable face.

"Let's go outside to eat", he said. She nodded and went inside the boat to fetch her jacket. They silently walked towards the car. _Well, she seems normal enough now, _Sam thought, watching her. Driving towards the town, throwing her furtive glances now and then, he realized that maybe somewhere Castiel was right - that maybe, just maybe, Kiyoshi was that something, than someone who could keep his humanity alive.

_Maybe we can keep each other human. Through all this ... mess._

Today he had felt his age, young as he might be. So many years he had been wrong, had done awful things, justifying his actions with his purpose... and now, in the face of this innocent girl, he had to admit it. _Whatever the purpose, however justified your motives – you can´t expect to_ _get out of a life like this untarnished. With your soul intact and whole._

_But maybe – maybe there´s a way back to my former self, a way to save my own soul while saving this girl, and my brother. God knows we all need to be saved. And even if I'm not sure I'm worthy - at least she is worth saving for sure._

He smiled to himself in the rearview mirror. Looking over to the other side, he saw that Kiyoshi had placed her head against the car´s window and closed her eyes. As he stared at the road ahead he saw a shrine pass by. A funeral was taking place, a small group of people gathered around it. Sam knew where he had to drive now. As they came to a halt, Kiyoshi opened her eyes, looking around in confusion.

"Where are we? Sam?"

It was twilight already, and the sky had turned yellow with a beautiful orange hew. Squinting through the front window, the girl saw that ahead of her there was the Hanazono shrine which had been closer to her family´s house. Sam walked around the car and opened the door for her.

"Come on, let's go." He held out his hand to her.

She did not know where they were going, she'd never been to her father´s grave after the ...events, hidden in Sam's boat. Opening the gates, they walked into the cemetery behind the temple. Kiyoshi caught Sam's arm and Sam felt a knot build in his stomach. He squeezed her hand as they came in front of her father's tomb. The names of her mother, brother and her own were painted there in red. She knelt down in front of the gravestone, and Sam handed her the bucket he´d found at the grave´s side, along with the ladle. She washed the stone and then wiped it, as was custom in her religion. She was crying now, silently, while placing the incense sticks and the flowers.

"He had given up on life", she murmured, voice thick with tears. "I saw the life drain out of him when he was talking to me about Yakuza. About what - what I'd have to do to save the family. He was already dead before he was killed."  
>Sam helped her to her feet. They walked back in silence. The sky had taken on a deep grey color. There was utter silence as the wind had dropped and it was becoming heavier by the minute. The silence of the dead seemed somehow unsettling for the living, too.<br>On their way out towards their car, Sam cleared his throat. The whole scene had taken its toll on him, too – he knew how it felt to kneel in front of gravestones of people you'd loved.

"I know how you feel. It's a terrible feeling to be all alone. It's horrible ... the knowledge that somewhere you have let down your family. The sense of powerlessness makes you feel so ... small. All I can say is .. you´re not alone, Kiyoshi. You can depend on me."

Sam saw his reflection in the car's window and only then noticed his cheeks were wet. _Have I been crying?, _he wondered. _When have I last shed tears? Must have been when Dad...when he..._

He felt Kiyoshi´s hand on his back, warm and strangely reassuring.

"Thank you".

They drove back to their boathouse, dinner entirely forgotten. By the time they got back, it was raining heavily again. Sam opened the door, but hesitated. Kiyoshi threw him a glance, and got out.

"Wait", Sam said. "It´s – we'll be soaked!"

"No, we can run! Come on!" Kiyoshi spurted away, laughing back at him in the dim light.

Sam was quick to follow – with his long legs, he'd reached her within a few long strides. They reached the door and Sam opened it. Kiyoshi got in, Sam right at her feet, both of them dripping water, shaking droplets off their shoulders and hair. Sam removed his tie and coat and put on the kettle on for the boil. He prepared tea for them and poured it in cups. He joined Kiyoshi and sat on the corner of the bed. She shivered.

"Here, some tea will help."  
>"Thank you." She took the delicate china cup from his hands.<p>

Sam kept his cup down and sneezed. Kiyoshi looked up from her tea with concern in her eyes. Sam had never been subjected to such a look. Not for a long time at least. _That´s how Mom used to look at me when I had a cold... or Dean, when I fell, and hurt my knee again..._ His head spun.

"Your hair is still wet, may I?"  
>"uh.." Sam hated the fact that he could not speak clearly, couldn't even think straight. Usually he had the answers to most questions. <em>Everything´s such a mess... the past and the present mixing in your mind, and the girl at your side, another reminder of people you´ve lost, and yet alive, and ... caring for you, actually. Like you´re worth being looked after.<em>

Before he could respond, he realized that Kiyoshi had moved behind him with a towel. She started rubbing his hair so delicately that Sam wasn´t sure if she was drying his hair or giving him a gentle head massage. It felt so good that Sam leaned into her touch. He almost lost himself in the moment ... and let out a small moan. Kiyoshi giggled at this and Sam snapped himself out of it. He caught her hands and said "That's fine", in a harsher tone than he had intended.

She removed her hands from his head. It felt cold all of a sudden.

"We should go to bed", Sam said. He removed himself from the cot and went to set his own bed on the floor. Kiyoshi tucked her bed spread and lay down. Sam switched off the lights. He lay down, a million thoughts and pictures spinning in his head. He was not sure anymore how he felt about this girl. He was clearly falling for her and he knew that she also shared these feelings ... or at least an attraction for him. But he could not brush off the guilt: She was Yoshiro's daughter. In fact he felt somehow responsible for her situation, the unhappy condition she found herself in. _Yet she´s_ t_ouching that part in my heart that is still hopeful, _he thought; _the part in me that still wants to be a silly young boy with hopes and dreams_. A part in him that he had locked ever since his brother was taken away and his mom was murdered. _Locked and hidden away so deep down inside myself I wasn´t even sure I´d be able to find it again._

Suddenly Sam heard the clattering of teeth. He got up and bent over Kiyoshi. She was shivering as well.

"Kiyoshi? Are you alright?"

"I'm so cold, w-would you please..."  
>Sam pulled off the blanket from his bedding and spread it over her. "Please stay" she said, grabbing his hand. Sam hesitated a moment. <em>Is this a good idea?<em> _Don´t you have enough problems already?_ He looked into the girl´s dark eyes, her pale childlike face. He felt a wave of protectiveness wash over him.

Finally, he lay down at her side and she cuddled next to him, enwrapped in his long arms, her slight figure taking all the body warmth it could get.

He placed her gently next to him, careful not to wake her, and got up. He left some breakfast that he had made for them, and went to dress up in a white shirt, choosing a lean black tie to go with it, and a black coat. There was so much at stake today.

He had been asked to help kill his own brother by Edogawa. Their plan was set; Edo would get Dean to the agreed place. Sam was just supposed to be the driver, and on the lookout. His boss had laughed when Sam suggested that he could do the job alone. "He's the white devil! What do you think - that this is my first attempt at killing him? Besides – I´ve been itching to off this ... impostor, from the day Amaya brought him into the family. It will be my special pleasure to end him one and for all. He may have a cat´s nine lives, but even a street cat runs out of lives someday."  
>Sam had felt a slight sense of pride that his brother was a hard kill. He donned his long overcoat, hiding his katana within the folds. Walking out towards his car, he was surprised to feel a smile tug at the corners of his mouth; he had actually left a note near the precooked breakfast for Kiyoshi. <em>This girl has really gotten to you, man...<em>

Sam reached the Asakusa district at the Sensoji temple. The Sanja Matsuri Festiveal was in full bloom. He could not believe the splash of color and activity there. There were several stalls selling food and other things for the temple. Leaving the car at the set place, he began to search for Edo in the crowd.

"Good morning - Mr. Smith", he heard Edo´s voice all of a sudden. The smaller man was patting Sam's back from behind. Sam turned around, nodding at his boss.

"You are on time again. I like it that I'm yet to meet a white person who's on time." he said, laughing. "Come on, let's eat something. We´ve still got time."  
>They sat down at a stall and some skewered meat was brought to them. Sam was stunned for a moment when he saw a familiar black and red kimono pass him by, reminding him of Murakami. He turned around and looked at the geisha.<p>

"Don't worry my friend, the dead don't walk among us", Edo was smiling at him. Sam was a little taken aback at this, but he did not show it.

Edo smiled unpleasantly."Yes, I know about Simmons hiring you. It was a glaring sign right there. Junko had asked him to search for someone who could take care of this geisha and her lover, Shinichi. Hmph… can you believe it? Shinichi was his friend, his brother? He even took a bullet for Junko once when I had attacked him. Look how he got repaid."  
>"Edo", someone called out to him. "Excuse me..."<p>

Edo left Sam to meet the new entrant.  
>Sam felt incredibly hot and then he almost turned pale. Everything slowed down and went quiet. His world was crumbling around him. Dean? Dean had ordered Murakami´s death? He´d killed her on his own brother´s will? Had played into his sick power game...<p>

Was Castiel right? Had Dean gone too far? Would he ever get back the brother he had lost that unfortunate night all those years ago? Or a monster... a cold blooded killer...

_But then, what´s the difference between you and him... the things you´ve done to get here... you´re both damaged good. Damaged to the core._

All these questions, lingering somewhere at the back of his head for so long, now took front stage. He was ripped out of his musings though by Takeshi, one of Edo´s men and his co-conspirator, who called Sam out to a viewing gallery. Staring down at the crowd filling the street, he saw that finally the three main Mikoshi, the largest and most important shrines, were brought out. They were carried though the streets all day, in the honor of the three brothers who were fishermen and found a relic which had helped the spread of Buddhism in the country.

"Forget those two in the front - check out the one right behind them", Takeshi murmured into Sam´s ear.

There it was, the Mikoshi shrine dedicated to the Gods. The deep sound of drums filled the air, and people were cheering joyfully ... so much energy everywhere. The Mikoshi was likely a conical structure made out of bamboo and cloth, weighing almost a ton, supported on thick black bamboo poles, that helped the men downstairs pulling it ahead. The third Mikoshi, the one Takeshi had pointed out, was the Yakuza Mikoshi – inofficially, of course. Sam saw at least 40 bare chested Yakuza men, including Edo, pulling the Mikoshi forward. Sam admired all of Edo's magnificent tattoo work, covering his upper body completely. Then he noticed the tall, broad shouldered figure behind his boss ... Edo's tattoo work was nothing compared to Dean´s. His brother was standing on top of the bamboo poles, upper body naked, barking orders and giving his men the necessary boost. Sam stared at the huge carp on his brother´s back, framed by beautiful flowers and branches, and some Japanese writing... the tattoo on Dean´s chest was more like a robe, an artful pattern Sam couldn´t decipher from afar.

"Kind of represents the current situation, doesn't it?" Takeshi said taking a puff of his cigarette, squinting down at Edo and Dean.

Sam merely smiled. He was amazed to see how much Dean enjoyed his status here among criminals. He had indeed gained honor among thieves. Dean looked up, smiling briefly, and waved at someone who was standing above Sam. He followed the direction of Dean´s eyes - and just saw a hand with a heavy gold watch, a cigarette dangling from lean fingers.

Amaya? The Big Boss, his father´s opponent and cause of all of their pain – he was here? The hand disappeared, and Sam turned back to the crowd surrounding the shrine.

He took in the overwhelming atmosphere of the festival. The colors, the artfully ornated shrines, obviously heavy like hell, if it took so many men to transport them, the sights and sounds and smells.

He could not believe it - here he was at yet another festival, for another murder, one he would never forgive himself for, if Edo succeeded. He watched Dean moving through the crammed crowds. Dammit - why did he have to be here today? Of course - he was here to claim his prize. The big honor, the final sign of approval. Touching the black shrine richly ornated in gold...only few people were ever allowed to do that, to show to the world – well, the part of it relevant to their lives– their position, the trust they´d gained.

Castiel had told him of Dean´s devotion towards Amaya. The big boss, or oba san, father, as the Yakuza members called him, was nowhere to be seen now. Apparently he had already left for the celebration before the ceremony was over. He was excited too, it seemed, that he had bet on the right horse... that his investment had paid out so well, had proved itself so unexpectedly useful.

Sam saw Kenji, Edo´s right hand, move towards Dean, now standing fully clothed in the middle of the crowd surrounding the Yakuza´s shrine. He whispered something into his ear. Dean looked up and nodded briefly. He followed Kenji, who was leading him away from the shrine. Kenji waved his hand towards the left and began pushing through the dense crowd.

It was the sign Sam and Edo, who´d left the shrine earlier, and donned his clothes again, had been waiting for. Sam followed Edo out of the area, to the place where they´d parked the car nearby.

Sam held the door for Edo, waited for the older man to climb into the passenger seat, then he took the driving seat and pulled away from the curb, gripping the wheel hard. _This is it ... time to prove to your brother you´re on his side_. _ Well, the side of him that´s still worth saving at least._

Dark grey clouds were gathering in the sky and there was the distant rumbling of thunder in the air. "The gods are on our side today" Edo said, polishing his guns with a fond expression on his face. Sam knew the way to the docks where they were headed ... had studied the map until he knew every street, alley, and short cut by heart. Kenji had planned out exactly where he was going to get Dean, using a code word only known to the few higher-ups to lure him away... Sam's car was supposed to follow a different route so as to not raise any alarm. Sam squinted through the windshield. The rain and lighting were coming down heavily now, blurring the vision, swallowing the world around them.  
>Sam´s car came to a halt at the exact spot where Kenji had told them to wait. They both got out, Sam holding an umbrella over his bosses´ head. As though on cue, Kenji brought the car around the corner, with Dean in the passenger seat, braked hard, jumped out, and hasted towards Edo's car. Dean looked through the window, a confused expression on his face, clearly trying to understand what was happening. Sam saw him watch Edo approaching the car and opening his jacket. He could literally see the moment when the truth hit Dean ... the second when he realized what was going on.<p>

_React, Dean. Please... don´t let him shoot you like some street dog... _it cost Sam all he´d got to just trust in his brother´s instincts and skills, and stand by, watching.

Edo pulled out a .52 caliber gun and shot at the window without hesitation. A rare triumphant smile showed on his face. There was a huge bang, the sound of shattering glass ... Sam prayed silently. _It can´t end here...not like that... _

When the smoke had cleared, Edo slowly moved closer to check the car - but there was no one inside. As he turned around searchingly, someone pulled his legs, and Edo fell backwards to the ground. _Dean...thank God, _Sam breathed a sigh of relief.

"You're really becoming desperate, aren't you, Edogawa-san? Well - I hate to disappoint, but I'm here to stay ... and you´ll have to try better than this." Sam saw the deprecating smirk on Dean´s face ... then his brother kicked Edo in his gut, with force, and Edo cried out. Dean picked up Edo´s gun and threw it into the ocean.

"Fight like a man, Edo", Dean said, taking position like a boxer. There was this sly grin on his face, indicating that he was enjoying this very much. Edo finally got up to his feet. He raised his hand, signalling to Kenji – _and to me, his supposed loyal underling, _Sam thought – he didn´t want back up, or any intervention – for now. He found his footing, and both men started circling each other like predatory animals.

Without any warning, Dean lashed out, jumping forward. Sam watched in awe as his brother punched and kicked hard, jumping back and forth, using his fists, arms, legs and feet with a skill that spoke of long and efficient training. But so did Edogawa´s fight. He was not going to give up this opportunity so easily. Dean was an amazing fighter; he was almost too fast to follow with the naked eye... yet Edo had years of experience on his shoulders, and a ruthlessness Dean had yet to reach. As Edo caught him in a death hold, Sam and Dean's eyes met. Sam was mouthing silently... _come on Dean, you know this_ _one._ He could literally read the memory flashing over his brother´s face... how their dad had taught them how to get out of a death grip. Dean let go of Edo´s hand on his throat, raised his arm in the air, pulled back with full force and hit Edo straight in his gut with his elbow. Edo´ s arms fell down, he pressed his hands on his hurt stomach ... and once again fell to the ground, all the air punched out of his lungs by Dean´s second blow.

Dean glanced up, to properly look at Sam this time. He was panting heavily, shoulders heaving. They stared at each other – and then the brief shared moment ended when Kenji, who´d circled the place and climbed a roof at the opposite side of the two fighting men, pulled out a gun and shot, hitting Dean in his shoulder, before Sam even had time to react, cry out, warn his brother, give any sign.

Dean screamed in pain and turned, pushed by the impact, falling backwards. Edo saw his opportunity and scrambled to his feet, to finish his wounded opponent once and for all.  
>Sam looked up to see Kenji smiling down at them coldly. <em>Bastard, <em>he thought, _I´ll get you...and wipe_ _that smile off your face for good_. He pulled his knife from his inner pocket, straightened it and breathed in to steady his aim. _Now_...Kenji was watching his boss grabbing Dean at the collar, pulling him back to his feet brutally_._ He didn´t spare a glance for Sam...Sam aimed, breathed in...and threw. The knife went straight into Kenji´s chest, down to the hilt. Kenji had a shocked expression on his face as he fell, landing on the roof he had been standing on, toppling over the rim, his body disappearing between the crates and containers. Sam knew the Yakuza man woudn´t be a problem any more. He turned back, focusing on the fighting scene in front of him again.

Edo had Dean by his neck, strangling him, and was punching him mercilessly, aiming at the wounded shoulder, the kidneys, the ribs... The image of a much younger Dean, sitting in a cell on his folded knees, while one of the men who´d abducted him was throwing blows at him, appeared in front of Sam's eyes. How he had cowered on the soiled floor, trying to protect his head, half starved and too weak to fight back... when Dean had told him, Sam had felt like throwing up...or killing someone, striking, punching in the faces of those responsible. He had felt so helpless in the face of his brother´s fate...

But not tonight. Sam pulled out the katana sword which he kept underneath the driver's seat, the perfect weapon – silent, yet deadly. He tore the katana out of its sheath, crying out fiercely as thunder filled the air and lightning struck right next to them in the water, the impact almost blowing him off his feet. He ran over to the two struggling men, raising the sword on his final jump. The raisor sharp blade cut through the raindrops and struck Edo's back, cutting open the other man´s coat, drawing blood where it sliced open Edo´s skin. Edo's fist was stuck midair as he screamed out in pain. He turned to face Sam and managed to grab his collar, face a grimace of pain and wrath. Sam released Edo´s grip from his collar and raised his katana for another strike.

The puddles of rain on the ground mixed with Edo´s dark blood. The Yakuza man fell to his knees and watched dazedly as Sam raised the sword one last time - and drove it through the small of his shoulder straight into his heart. The moment Sam pulled out the blade, the lifeless form of Edo touched the ground.  
>Dean had fallen back against the car, pressing a hand against his bleeding shoulder, panting, watching his little brother with horror in his eyes.<p> 


	19. Chapter 19

Dean took the familiar stairway. He hadn't been to the fourth floor often...it was a special mercy to be called into oba san´s office, always had been, even for special cases like himself. He'd been up there less then ten times in almost as many years, emotions always changing between excitement, dread, and determination. He nodded at the sentinel positioned at the second floor, and got a respectful nod in return. He'd made his way here... studied, and trained, and worked hard. And he´d been rewarded ... giving him the post as chief negotiator of Kuro Tora (and, inofficially, of the whole Japanese delegation) was a sign of big trust in his abilities. _And I haven´t let them down so far, _he thought. _I´ve been a good son._

A group of men waited outside the offices at the third floor. Supplicants... with the treaty signed and ready, they´d be lining up here for a long time. Whoever wanted to get a bite of the big cake they´d wrapped for them - they´d have to sell their souls to Yakuza. _Didn´t expect them to show up this soon though, _he mused.

The last stairway, set apart from the rest by a framed glass entrance. Two "assistants" ware positioned at desks to the left and the right of the entrance ... but Dean knew what they really were: highly trained soldiers, killers, ready to jump over the desk and fight, or just pull their silenced guns and shoot. To his surprise, they both got up when he approached them, and bowed slightly.

"Junko", one of them said.

"Aguri", he nodded, waiting for the other man to straighten up.

"Oba San is expecting you."

Dean frowned. It was unusual for the guards to approach him like that. He waited, eyeing the man who kept his eyes down. _Interesting, _he thought. _He seems to know something._

Finally, Aguri talked, still not looking at Dean.

"I am your devoted brother. My life is your life."

Dean straightened his shoulders. He felt the pull of the bandages Sam had put around one of them after Edo had managed to get a bullet through him.

_That´s the formula for ... does it mean Amaya is going to...make me waka-gashira? Aguri´s smart...he´s getting a head-start on my benevolence...nice move, if a little unusual, _he thought, smiling slightly. _It´s all a big game of chess...and I´m obviously going to get one step nearer to the king now._

"And my life is yours", he answered, according to tradition. Aguri looked up at that. They´d spent two years together at the remote farm house, had learned to fight, to write those hellishly complicated Japanese signs, and Dean had profited a lot from just having someone to talk to in Japanese. Aguri had been as close to a friend as he´d ever come since he'd come here, aside from Shinichi, the other boy getting trained there...the one Dean had had murdered, on Amaya´s orders... Of course it was over once they´d been separated again, Aguri becoming a skilled guard, Shinichi going to diplomatic school, and Dean attending business school. Hierarchy was strict inside Yakuza.

_I wonder what will happen to him if Cas and Sam´s plan plays out,_ he wondered.

The other man looked finally up, and Dean nodded at him reassuringly. He saw the relief in Aguri´s eyes. _I´m a traitor, _Dean thought. _He trusts me, they all do, and I – I pay them back with treachery. He never did anything to hurt me, or my family back home._

He felt the remorse and doubt creep up inside his chest again, all the pangs of conscience that had kept him awake for the last few nights.

_He´s a killer, and he wouldn't hesitate to shoot me, or Sam, or anyone else if he got the order to do so, _he reminded himself. _They all are. You yourself should know that, as you are the same. Think about Shinichi ... he saved your life, took a bullet for you, and you – you had him killed like a dog._

Aguri nodded to the other guard, and they opened the door for him. Dean entered the stairway, and slowly went up the steps. He knocked reverently.

"Junko!"

Dean was surprised to hear Amaya´s chair be shoved back, and the other man´s steps come close. The door opened. He stayed bowed down deeply until he felt Amaya´s hand on his chin. Amaya pulled him upright. Dean kept his eyes to the floor, as was requested by etiquette.

"Look at me, Junko."

_Wow. He´s seriously promoting me. That´s what I´ve been dreaming of for years._

He raised his eyes, and stared into the dark ones of the smaller man. Amaya was smiling at him. An actual, honest smile that reached his eyes.

"You've done well, Junko. Very well. Let me congratulate you ... I had big expectations for you, but I must say you exceeded them."

Dean felt a blush on his cheeks. Such praise from the mightiest man in this branch of Yakuza ... it was priceless, and he´d have killed for it only two weeks ago. One week maybe. _And you did. You did kill ... or had people killed. Who knows how many have died for your actions, or for your rise?, _he thought, feeling his stomach clench.

He bowed his head in a silent acceptance of Amaya´s praise, lowering his eyes humbly again.

"I feel honored to be part of this family, oba san. Everything I am, I am because of you and your kind interest in me. I am your devoted servant and son."

_No, I am the snake that will bite you although you´v e fed it and gave it a home, that´s who I truly am. _Dean just couldn't stop the thoughts running through his mind, he was barely able to stand near the man who had, for so long, been a father figure to him. A severe, brilliant, tough, ruthless and cruel man with principles that might not be your usual family values, but they were principles. And Dean realized he'd liked that – to know what was expected, to know how to act and what to do, and to be sure to succeed as long as these principles were followed strictly.

Amaya went to a small, beautifully painted cupboard, and took out two tiny glasses and a bottle.

"Let´s drink to your success", he said.

Dean bowed again, and watched Amaya fill the glasses.

"Lets´ just do it the Western way, shall we?", Amay asked, a smile playing around his lips. "Sometimes it´s so refreshingly... simple." He raised his glass, and said, "To the new waka-gashira!"

Dean was stunned for a moment. He saw the amusement in Amaya´s eyes. "Did you not expect this, Junko? After the festival, the shrine? You have proved yourself worthy in many ways, and I am not one to be stingy when it comes to the reward." He drank, and Dean raised the glass to his lips. He was surprised when he smelled the brandy.

"Thank you...oba san. Thank you very much. I won´t disappoint you."

"No, you won´t", Amaya said lightly, refilling his glass. "Drink, Junko. It´s time to celebrate."

Dean emptied his glass in one take, and watched Amaya do the same with his.

_Another one, and he'll be drunk like an Irish sailor_, he thought.

"I have a present for you", Amaya said, licking his lips. Dean bristled. `Presents´could be anything from a company of his own, to a bloody body, in this world.

"I heard about the attack on your life", Amaya calmly said, turning the bottle in his hand, obviously considering another refill. "And I am appalled by the misbehavior of one of my ...attendants." He opened the bottle once more. Dean´s mind raced. _He knows...which means he must know about Sam, too. Which means... holy shit._

Amaya smiled unpleasantly. "I am happy to present you one of the traitor´s followers...one of his best hands, obviously. We managed to catch him...you´ll be surprised to find out he´s a born American, just like you." Amaya went to his desk, and pressed a button on the shiny surface. "Bring him upstairs", he said into the intercom.

"Of course, I had him questioned about the traitor´s scheme...and I'm glad to be able to tell you that with a little... persuasion, he was very ready to tell us almost everything. He claimed to have saved your life at the docks, and seems to be a very skilled confidence trickster. I´ve heard he also claims to be your long-missed brother...who´s come all this way to be united with you, and save you from my greedy claws."

Dean´s heart seemed to stutter. He went completely cold inside. Amaya drained his glass again, and put it down on his desk hard.

"Do you happen to know what I´m talking about, Junko?"

Dean felt the blood leave his face. He was glad he'd drunk the brandy before, somehow it kept him on his feet. _Get a grip, and play your role. You can do this...for Sam._

"He didn't lie about saving my life", he said coolly. "As to the brother thing...I think he wanted to use it as a way into our family. As far as I know, he´s been a professional killer for the last years, and a pretty good one...obviously, he was hoping for a shortcut by sacrificing Edo, and approaching me by telling all those lies about being Sam."

He looked at Amaya, and bowed his head again reverently.

"I´m glad you found him. I think he could be a valuable part of our organization, but the lies he´s told are despicable. Even if he´s saved my life."

Amaya studied Dean´s face. Dean waited, silently praying his performance had been convincing.

"You didn't think he could be – telling the truth?"

Dean managed to look surprised, and slightly offended.

"My brother is dead. You yourself told me so. How could I doubt your word, oba san?"

Amaya smiled briefly. "Indeed...you´ve always been a good son, Junko." He refilled his glass once more. "I must say I like the boldness and creativity of this guy ... but on the other hand, he´s pretty forward...and I don't like people who want to miss out steps on our ladder ...every step is a lesson, and those who think they can miss some, are too convinced of their own importance...too smart for their own good." He sipped his fourth brandy.

"We will get rid of him."

Dean felt his spirits sink. _Please let this go well...please let Sam be still alive enough for this..._ he was well aware what Yakuza´s `persuasion´- techniques looked like.

Someone knocked at the narrow door to Amaya´s right.

"Come in!", he bellowed in Japanese, a little too loud. _The booze...it´s getting to his head, _Dean thought.

He almost gasped when Sam appeared in the doorway... he was pushed into the room from behind, arms bound together at his back, the rope running to his chest under his right armpit, slung around his throat and neck, and vanishing under his other arm. It looked tight and painful, and he could tell from Sam´s ragged breathing it was constricting his airways life threateningly.

What was even worse was Sam´s face...one eye was completely closed, his nose clearly broken, both cheeks red and swollen; his hair was matted at one side, soaked in blood. There was blood on his shirt and trousers, too.

"Ah. Our guest has arrived", Amaya said silkily. "What a pity he won't be able to stay..." He strolled over to where Sam was held by one of Amaya´s bulky foot soldiers. Sam was so much taller it made Amaya look ridiculously short. The Japanese man raised his arm and caressed Sam´s bruised cheek.

"What a pity", he purred. "You could have made me a fortune in Yoshimara´s whore houses...such a waste, isn't it? Don't you agree, Junko?" He grabbed Sam´s chin and turned his head in Dean´s direction. "I bet he has a very ... satisfying _chinko _hidden in his trousers." Dean watched Amaya lay his hand on Sam´s crotch, and stroke it. "Oh yes... you should have applied for a different job, my boy. With a cock this large, you are destined to give pleasure to men and women alike..." Sam flinched when Amaya dug his fingers into his cock, and pressed hard. Dean bit into the side of his cheek not to cry out. Amaya stared into Sam´s one open eye, a cruel smile playing around his mouth. _How did I ever see a father in this man, _Dean thought. _He´s sadistic and cold as a stone..._

Finally, Amaya released Sam´s privates, and turned to Dean. "I would leave him to you to fuck him unconscious, Junko, but he´s a dirty slut ... dont want you to catch something." Dean had never heard the oba san talk like that ..._must be the alcohol, _he thought.

He blushed. Amaya came close, and padded his cheek. "No need to blush, son", he said, good humouredly. "I know about your preferences... you'll get others, and better ones, to give you pleasure." He sauntered over to his desk, and opened a drawer, pulling out a gun with a silencer already fixed to it. He eyed it lovingly, aimed at the wall, and pulled the trigger. With a soft thud, the bullet vanished in the wall´s surface. Dean gazed at his boss, a little preoccupied.

"Oba San?", he asked carefully. Amaya smiled broadly, and returned to Dean´s side, reaching over the gun. "Shoot him", he said. "I don´t mind where and in which order, as long as he´s dead in the end. No need to rush it, son... let´s enjoy ourselves a little, shall we?"

Dean took the gun from his bosses´ hand. He nodded, and managed a grin.

"As you wish, oba san – it will be my pleasure."

He looked at Sam, and nodded almost imperceptibly, aiming at his shoulder, right in front of the guard´s face.

"I will start with his left shoulder", he declared. "On the count of...one, two – three!"

Sam jerked away, and the bullet hit the guard´s front, took the back of the man´s head with it, and landed in the doorframe. Dean turned to face Amaya, who eyed the dead body on the floor with dazed eyes. When he looked up at Dean, he looked confused.

"Junko?", he asked, a little surprised.

"I´m sorry, oba san", Dean whispered. "But this is family."

The bullet hit Amaya right in the middle of his front, sending his body flying through the room, and toppling over the large desk. Dean strode over to look at the crumpled form on the floor. Amaya´s eyes stared at him, empty. Dean bowed over the body, and fingered two keys on a ring out of the dead man´s trousers.

He turned to Sam, who leant against the wall awkwardly.

"Let´s move. That silencer isn't THAT silent after all", Dean murmured. He took a knife from the guard´s belt, and cut the rope around Sam´s throat, helping him to get rid of the bindings.

"You OK? Can you run?"

Sam nodded. "I´m good", he mumbled. "Have been worse."

"I bet", Dean huffed, took his brother's arm, and pulled him through the narrow side door. He shoved the dead body aside, and closed the door, locking it with one of the keys. They stumbled through the small room, and took the narrow staircase leading to a corridor at the ground floor, and the basement, where unpleasant deals were finished, usually to Yakuza´s advantage, and with a certain body count.

Dean hasted through the corridor, still pulling the slightly dazed Sam with him, until they reached the back door. The guard at the inside looked at them, surprised.

"Junko!", he called. "What do -" Dean´s bullet went right into his heart, and he crumpled to the floor.

Dean took a deep breath, and threw open the door, gun raised. The second guard was dead before he even knew what had hit him; the third tried to hit the gun out of his hand, but he punched the weapon into his face, and shot him while he was still falling.

He scanned the backyard. No more guards.

He grabbed Sam´s jacket, and they stumbled to the door in the wall.

_Please, let Cas be there, _Dean prayed to some god, any god. _Please, please, please let this play out..let us be lucky for once!_

Sam stumbled, and almost fell. Dean tightened his grip. "We're almost there, Sammy...a few steps, and we're peachy!" Sam moaned. _If they hurt him real bad, I´ll just shoot them once more,_ Dean thought. He opened the door in the wall with the other key, and pushed Sam through the opening, slipped out after him, and closed it again, locking it. He turned, and scanned the street. _Cas, where are you...Cas! Don´t leave me hanging here... _

A car raced down the lane, and halted with screeching tires. Dean squinted into the window. Cas waved at him, grimacing. A young Japanese girl looked at him from the back seat, eyes wide. _Kiyoshi, _he thought. _Sam´s angel..._He ripped the door open, and helped Sam into the front seat. He saw Cas´ appalled face when he noticed his bruises and injuries. Dean hopped into the car. "Go, go, go! The explosives are due to go off in...", he looked at his watch, "One half minute!"

Cas pressed the gas pedal down, and the car jumped forward. Dean realized the translator didn't maybe have very many hours of practice behind the wheel.

"Cas...are you OK with driving? I mean -"

At this moment, an explosion ripped the air behind them. Dean turned in his seat. A smouldering fireball lightened the ground floor of the building; he felt the shockwave hit the car, push it forward almost ten feet. He heard Cas swear, and was slammed against the side of the car when it slingered wildly to the right, then the left side of the street. Cas managed to stabilize the car – _he´s not so bad behind the wheel after all, _Dean thought – and Dean looked back again. A huge cloud of black smoke darkened the view; the building was a little askew, and seemed frozen for a second; then it sank down, as if tired of standing there for so long...and Dean just got a glimpse of the fourth floor vanishing into the billowing smoke and dust, before Cas turned the car to the right, and sped it through the narrow lane.

Dean looked at him in the rear mirror. "It´s done", he said, and for the first time in a long time, he felt a grin pull at his lips.

Cas met his eyes in the mirror, and nodded, smiling. His eyes were bright, and unbelievingly blue. Sam watched them, and moaned in exasperation.

"Can you two save it for later...please? I´m hurting enough all over already – and we've a boat to catch!"


	20. Chapter 20

The waves sloshed against the stones littering the sandy beach in a steady, unceasing movement, the sound a reassuring background to Sam´s wayward thoughts. The months since they´d left Japan had gone by so fast, first filled with all the measurements it took to be sure Yakuza really wasn't following or tracking them (the bodies and personal evidence Dean had placed inside the building he was then blowing up so spectacularly obviously had done the trick, persuading Japanese and Americans of their death alike...) He turned his head lazily to his side, eyes still heavy with sleep, and crusted with salt from his earlier swim. His brother´s tattooed back was only a few metres away, lean and muscled, the skin on his uninked shoulders now tanned and dusted with freckles, just like Sam remembered from their childhood summers, a layer of almost white sand sticking to the carp tattoo like a scaly second skin. Dean was glancing out over the water, and it wasn´t hard to guess who he was looking for; following the direction of his brother's gaze, Sam sure found Cas´ skinny form far away, where the steep rocky coast embraced the small, remote bay, no doubt collecting beautifully colored stones, driftwood shaped into pieces of art by the sun and the sea, or white shells and starfish remains.

Dean and Cas. Sometimes he wondered how both of them had even lived, had kept breathing without each other ... without the constant touching, the teasing, the arguments and fighting about important matters like cars, or which word to use to insult an especially unpleasant fellow human in English and Japanese. And without the long hours of quietly enjoying each other´s company, not talking or doing anything special, just walking along the beach, preparing meals, or lying in the sand staring at the sea and the sky. Watching each other work, Cas sitting on the dry grass, leaning against the wooden shed´s wall when Dean was working on the old battered car he'd somehow "won" (he hadn't been too clear about the details), following his lover´s movements with hooded eyes – and Sam had to admit, Dean looked so sexy in his sleeveless shirt, all dirty, and his skin smeared with grease and sweat, and with this blissful expression on his face he had reserved for his handiwork, he couldn't blame the guy. Dean, on the other hand, loved to lay down at Cas´ side when the other man was reading or writing, always touching him somewhere, even if it was only his fingertips grazing the rim of Cas´ shirt. It was as if Dean needed the reassurance, still, that all of this was real, was his life now, and wouldn´t be ripped away from him, that he wouldn't wake up in a dark cellar somewhere, or back in a life he hadn´t chosen for himself.

"Hey, sleepy head."

Sam blinked, squinting up at his brother´s smiling face. Dean had turned around, his hair spiky and standing in all directions, tips bleached from the hours out in the sun.

"I´m not sleeping", Sam murmured.

"Yeah, tell that to your snoring self", Dean answered, his grin making him look ten years younger, just like the carefree boy Sam had known... before. It had taken it´s time, but they got glimpses of him more and more often now, not only from Dean, but Cas also, and Sam had to admit he had changed, too, feeling free and unburdened and... happy for the first time in a long while. He realized some of his old self was seeping back into him, or crawling out from wherever he'd hidden it, when he found himself sitting at the kitchen table with the others, and realized they were all staring at him, barely managing not to grin or laugh.

"What!", he´d asked, insecure of what to make of their faces.

Cas shook his head, smiling. "Nothing, it´s just – you talked like for ten minutes without a pause, Sam."

"Got worried you might pass out from lack of oxygen", Dean added. "I remember now – you used to do that as a kid."

"Do what! Talk? Of course I talk!"

Dean chuckled. "That´s not TALKING, Sam. It´s more like – a highly efficient secret weapon?"

"Talking people around you into a state of mental paralysis", Cas nodded.

Sam had huffed. "Doesn´t seem to work on you guys, though."

"That´s because we are special", Dean said, tone fake earnest and face almost serious. Cas sniggered in a very unmanly way. "And then, it´s as I said – I´ve been exposed to your powers from early on. Guess I'm immune." He'd smiled at Sam over the table, corners of his eyes crinkling. "You were such a weird kid, Sam – your nose always in a book or building a model of our planetary system or watching ants and bugs in one of your jam glasses. And you were so shy with other people – unless anyone made the mistake of getting you going on one of the topics you were wrapped up into at the time. Man, you could talk anyones´ ears off! I think you even scared your teachers sometimes."

Sam shook his head, laughing. "He´s so NOT telling the truth here", he said to Cas, who was obviously having a good time imagining a lanky, awkward 12 years-old Sammy not leaving his teachers a leg to stand on.

"I was only sharing my information! They -"

But at that point, small hands had touched his shoulders from behind, and warm lips had tickled his right ear.

"Oh, but I think he is, my love", Kiyoshi had murmured into his ear, her breath grazing over his skin and giving him goosebumps all over his body. "And I´m happy when you're talking, ´cause I love to hear your voice."

He'd pulled her tiny frame onto his lap, then, and Dean had elbowed Cas out of the room in a hurry ("Let´s get outta here before those two lovebirds start desecrating our kitchen again..."), and they sure weren´t talking much during the next hour.

Kiyoshi ... who now came down from the house, a tiny figure from afar, almost childlike, but in those sexy cut off jeans he loved and a checkered blouse knotted high above her belly button, looking like the Japanese Coke Girl.

The happiness inside him peaked and swelled until he thought he couldn't even bear it any longer without jumping up and running and shouting and laughing and swirling someone through the air; and seeing Dean´s smile when he looked up at the minute girl, open and without shadows in his eyes ... he sat up, shaking the dry sand off his back.

He felt Dean´s eyes on him, and glanced at his brother.

"What!", he grinned, expecting Dean´s usual teasing. But the other man looked at him for a moment without speaking, then let his gaze drift over the bay, his boyfriend´s figure out there at the water line, the girl approaching them. Finally, he looked back at Sam.

"Thank you", he murmured, reaching out, and touching Sam´s arm with his fingertips.

"Thanks for saving me...for this. For not giving up on me when I myself had already done so."

Sam smiled, staring at the impression his back had made in the sand.

"You don´t have to thank me, Dean,", he said. "You know I saved myself as much as you. And without Cas, I wouldn´t have made it."

"I know", Dean said quietly. "But I – I want to. So – thank you, little brother, who just had to grow into a giant moose while I was gone just to annoy me."

Sam chuckled. "Yeah, I totally did that on purpose so I could pay you back for all the times you wrestled me down when we were kids."

Kiyoshi was near now, he could see the bottles of soda she was carrying in her arms.

He squinted at his brother.

"Are you happy, Dean?"

Dean looked up, a little surprised. He didn´t answer immediately, but looked over at Cas in the distance, bowed deep over something in the sand. When he looked back at Sam, his green eyes were sparkling, like lit form within.

"I am", he simply said. "I am, Sam. Are you?"

Sam held his arm out at Kiyoshi, who had stepped close between them now, waving the soda bottles, and let herself fall unto the sand at Sam´s side. He pulled her close, kissing the top of her head.

"I am", he said. "Yes, Dean ... I am."


End file.
